


Counting Your Face Among the Living

by throwupsparkles



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe-Zombies!, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sexual Content, mild violence, zombie!Gerard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwupsparkles/pseuds/throwupsparkles
Summary: “Yeah, uh, sounds like a zombie?” Ray says with his voice raising an octave at “zombie.”“It’s not like he’s eating people,” Mikey offers, and shrugs, because really...what the fuck are they all supposed to say here.“I wanted to eat the neighbor’s dog.”Well, that apparently.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 285
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This zombie fic has actually been in the works for a couple months now. I've had my notes sitting on my computer just waiting for me to return to it and actual crank this out. I think after the up and down of my last two Time Travel AUs, it's time to have some fun with zombies. Look, there's going to be angst--it's what I know and love to write, but this one is going to be a bit more sillier than my other stuff for sure.

Gerard’s never put much thought into what happens after death. 

Well, at least not recently. He was brought up Catholic, so there was that period of time where he was paralyzed with fear that he would go to Hell. Right around his eighth birthday one of his great aunts had passed away and that had been his first brush with death that wasn’t a Disney character’s parent on the television. And it wasn’t like he really knew his great aunt Vera, but he’d seen her at Christmases for as long as he could remember. Him and Mikey always knew not to hug her or they’d smell like expired off brand Chanel perfume for days. And she always brought a jello mold with chunks of fruit in it. It was safe to say that she wasn’t really Gerard’s favorite relative. 

But when his mom sat him and Mikey down at the kitchen table to tell them that she had passed away, something clicked in Gerard. Dead didn’t mean closing his eyes when Mikey shoved the paper towel roll into his side like a knife. Dead meant no more Christmases trying to bribe Mikey into eating the jello mold. Dead meant closed eyes that wouldn’t open after the game was over. 

Dead meant forever.

Except when it didn’t. 

Except when Gerard breathes in and coughs on the dryness of his throat. Which is strange, because Gerard was pretty sure that his lungs weren’t supposed to be working anymore. He was pretty sure that he shouldn’t be thinking right now. Pretty sure things were supposed to be quiet. Finally. 

Gerard opens his eyes but there’s no difference. 

Just darkness. 

He can feel the stiffness in his neck, the slight numbness in his limbs from being cramped for too long. He tries to sit up, but his head hits something solid. He frowns and lifts his hands and feels the groove of the wood above him. 

His blood runs cold. 

He’s still alive. He’s been buried _alive_. There was an accident and he wasn’t really dead and they fucking buried him alive. 

The panic rolls over him in waves and he’s gasping but the air doesn’t reach his lungs. He starts clawing at the wood. He’s been buried alive. His short nails dig into the wood, splinters making a new home in his flesh. He smells metallic, feels the stickiness. He screams, but his voice doesn’t come out in the volume he's straining for. It’s dry and his throat feels cracked. He feels his vocal chords rub against each other. 

“Help,” he gasps. 

He feels the wood give and tugs. Dirt floods his senses, fills his mouth and nose full of it. He smells it’s earthy essence and is determined. He sits up, struggles against the weird angle the broken wood causes him to be in, and moves his arms like he’s doing the breaststroke. He kicks off the bottom of his coffin and curls his hands into makeshift shovels, scooping dirt even if it goes up his nose. 

It feels like an eternity of achy limbs and dirty suffocation until his hand finds nothing.

Air. 

He extends his fingers reaching out and searching.

Until, he feels fingers interlaced with his. Familiar. Gripping and tugging until Gerard can hear frantic voices. The dirt makes it so that he can’t differentiate the sounds just yet, but Gerard yearns for them. 

And then Gerard feels the cool, crisp air on his face and he gasps. Arms engulf him and he clings to the bony chest that he knows so well. 

Mikey.

“Gee,” Mikey says, voice breaking, and runs his fingers through his soiled hair. Gerard would sob if he could _breathe_. He keeps coughing instead. Mikey holds him at an angle so he’s facing the ground and pats him on the back. 

“Breathe, Gerard,” Mikey instructs, “You’re ok. You’re ok now. I’ve got you.”

Gerard finally takes in a full breath and it’s like his lungs have never expanded to that size before. He just keeps inhaling and inhaling without any limit. 

“Exhale,” Mikey says softly, sounding worried. 

“He’s not used to his new body yet,” he hears.

_New body?_

He turns in the direction of the voice and Pete Wentz is standing off to the side with his hands in the pouch of his hoodie. He meets Gerard’s eyes, then looks down at his feet with an air of bleakness. Gerard frowns and looks around, taking in that they’re sitting in a cemetery. 

What the fuck is going on?

“Gerard, hey, hey look at me,” Mikey says, pulling at Gerard’s chin until he’s looking into Mikey’s glasses rimmed eyes. He didn’t realize he was shaking until he felt Mikey’s steady hand on his trembling chin.“In, out, in, out,” he says and demonstrates the rhythm he wants Gerard to mimic. 

Gerard keeps his eyes on Mikey, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if his body can’t connect to his brain. _New body_ . He wonders what that means. As far as Gerard can tell, his body looks the same. He holds his hands out and glances down, they still look pale and _his_ , just a grimey and a little bloody at the nails from the wood. He feels the same. But there’s an eerie stillness under his skin, past the rapid breathing, there’s silence. Like he’s still dead. 

Mikey cups his cheeks and brings their foreheads together. “Just breathe,” he whispers and Gerard feels the order slide over him, comforting in the way fresh sheets feel on his weary body after a long day. He’s exhausted and slips into Mikey’s breaths and soft voice like the safe place it is. 

Mikey strokes his hair. “You’re ok now. It’s ok.”

Gerard slips from Mikey’s forehead and lays his heavy head on his shoulder, closing his eyes. Mikey wraps his arms around him protectively and leans his head against his. “You’re ok,” he whispers. 

He can feel him look at Pete though, feels the tension. There’s something fucked up going on for sure, and he knows that Mikey’s not going to tell him. Not yet. 

They both know how to deal with each other when they’re fragile. Mikey’s taken care of Gerard plenty of times when he was too fucked up to tell where his foot ended and the sidewalk began, when he was too out of his mind to be able to tell that the shadows weren’t following him. But this was different, Gerard’s not messed up. Because he had taken enough pills to make sure he wouldn’t just be messed up. Took enough to make sure he’d never be messed up again. 

He shakes his head because he doesn’t want to remember. Doesn’t want to feel the water around him, his clothes heavy and weighing him down against the tub. Doesn’t want to hear Joy Division coaxing out of Mikey’s room. Doesn’t want to remember the taste of chemicals on his tongue. Or feel the bloat of too many pills swimming in his stomach. “I was dead,” Gerard croaks.

He feels Mikey tense and then sees Pete coming over to put his hand on Mikey’s back. “Let me give you guys a ride home.”

*

The car ride is fucking weird. Gerard can’t settle in his own skin, he feels like it’s just going to crawl off his bones any minute. His mind feels blank, but also like it’s running a mile. Too fast for him to acknowledge a thought before it runs off. He frowns, reaching down to place his hand over his heart.

And feels nothing. 

“Gee,” Mikey says softly, “Just relax.”

Relax. Right.

Gerard leans his head against the window and watches Jersey pass by. It's the end of Fall, just when the last of the leaves are starting to fall and when the cool evenings leak into the day. Where the air perpetually smells like bonfire and decay. 

Gerard always loved this time of year. Halloween was of course always his favorite, and soon it was going to be Thanksgiving--which, who didn’t like a holiday surrounded by food? And then after that would be Christmas and he always liked spending Christmas with Mikey. They would dig out Elena’s old holiday decorations that hadn’t been updated since the eighties and spend the afternoon playing Mikey’s extensive vinyl collection while they put up the tree. Mikey always made hot chocolate with Bailey’s and candy canes. 

But he had chosen to give that up. And for a moment, that really fucks with him. Because regardless of if he wanted to think about it, he had run a bath and sat in the warm water with an orange pill bottle that had his brother’s name on it. 

“Come on, Gee,” Mikey says.

Gerard blinks and realizes that Mikey has his door open and is tugging on his sleeve. 

Gerard gets out and lets Mikey lead them into their grandmother’s house, pausing to turn and wave weakly at Pete. The house was left to Gerard after their grandmother had died, which Gerard was grateful for. When Mikey graduated high school, he moved in with him since his house was closer to the community college--at least that’s the reason he gave their parents. The real reason was that Mikey wanted to have some sort of independence and the fact that Gerard didn’t care if Mikey partied all night and trampled into the house at 3AM smelling like a brewery was definitely part of the appeal. 

All their friends could see that it was not an ideal situation. They were called “The Chemical Brothers” for a reason, and keeping them together just made them feed off each other’s melancholic haze. Ray would always come over on Sundays and force them to eat a real meal. He’d push Gerard into the shower and sit Mikey at the table with his school assignments. They would grumble, but they were secretly glad that they had someone that could tether them to the world. It seemed too easy to believe that the world had given up on them. 

“What did you do, Mikey?” Gerard asks softly when they get inside, frowning when Mikey just walks past him and into the kitchen. Gerard follows him. “Mikes?”

Mikey still doesn’t answer, just starts the coffee and pulls down some bowls to fill with Count Chocula. Gerard sighs and hops up on the kitchen counter. He uses his legs to capture 

Mikey when he walks away to get the milk. “Mikey.”

Mikey sighs. “Pete showed me a spell.”

Gerard quirked an eyebrow. “A spell?” Gerard knew that Pete carried around crystals and liked to garden a shit ton--no, made _fairy gardens_ , but he didn’t think that made him a witch. 

“What kind of spell?” He asks. 

Mikey shrugs.

“Mikey, come on. It obviously worked.”

He can’t believe he’s having this conversation, or, well, maybe he can. His brother ran with some weird people. While Gerard was just as weird and fucked up as Mikey Way, he was quiet and usually worked his weirdness out on sketchbook paper. He was the hermit that never left the basement unless it was Wednesday so he could get his new comics. Mikey, on the other hand, loved to socialize. He was kind of a quiet dude too, he spoke lowly and monotonous, but he had a lot to say. And it always mattered. Mikey was magnetic, he told stories that pulled people in and he smiled that kept them in his grasp. It was great a lot of the time. Gerard was glad that his brother never felt the stab of loneliness that he felt, but sometimes he was wary of the strange people he would bring around the house. 

Pete Wentz being one of them. It wasn’t like he was a bad guy or anything, but there was something unnerving about him. He wore too much of his heart on his sleeve, his eyes were too zealous and he said whatever was on his mind. He was exactly the kind of person that would break his brother’s heart. 

“It was just,” Mikey starts, then pulls away from Gerard’s leg cage. “You were dead.” He flattens 

his hair, a nervous tick, “You were dead and Pete thought he could help.”

Gerard leans back against the upper cabinets and watches as Mikey pours cereal and milk. Sometimes he forgets how fragile Mikey is. He seems so indestructible in his eyes. Mikey Way who always had someone hanging on him, who always had a drink in his hand and an unimpressed expression on his face. But Mikey looks small right now. He looks thin and his face looks scared and childish, like he’s looking around for a grown up to handle this situation. 

But there isn’t anyone to lean on but themselves, so Mikey just dunks a spoon in each of the bowls and hands one to Gerard. 

Gerard takes a couple bites before, “I’m sorry.”

Mikey doesn’t say anything, just leans against the fridge and shovels cereal in his mouth. 

“Mikey.”

“Gee, I don’t want to talk about that,” he says in that flat dismissive tone that Gerard’s heard him use on so many people. People that weren’t worthy enough to hold his attention. People not Gerard. 

Gerard frowns down at his chocolate cereal. “It wasn’t you.”

He jumps at the clank of the bowl being tossed in the sink, the metal spoon clamoring against the stainless steel. “Fuck you.”

Gerard winces. “Sorry?”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Mikey bites out, and Gerard has never heard Mikey talk to him like that. They hardly ever fought, and when they did it was always heavy silences and sighs until one of them caved and bought the other one coffee. This wasn’t going to get solved with coffee. 

Gerard grips the counter with his fingers, relishing in the bite of the edge against his skin. “It wasn’t about you.”

Mikey laughs humorlessly. 

Gerard’s frown deepens. “Ok, maybe you're right. We shouldn’t talk about this yet. You clearly are too mad to hear what I have to say.”

Mikey stares at him, eyes piercing and seeing. Really seeing, the way that only Mikey can do. And Gerard deflates under the pressure, unable to hold it together anymore and his eyes feel hot and heavy. He can never hide from Mikey, which makes him wonder how Mikey didn’t see this coming. 

Depression on Gerard really didn’t look all that different from his everyday mannerisms, though sometimes Gerard wonders if that just means he’s been depressed for a long time and hasn’t done anything about it. There were days that were harder than others, days when Gerard doesn’t get out of bed and pretends he just has a hangover when Mikey pokes his head into his room. 

And there wasn’t some horrible, significant event that pushed Gerard into the bathtub that night. He’s heard that suicidal people are more likely to commit the act on days that they feel good, days that they feel motivated. Gerard isn’t sure if that really applied to him either. He woke up that day just like any other. He got out of bed and made coffee, watched Mikey shove a Pop Tart in his mouth before heading out to class. Then he went back to the basement and started on his pile of commission work that seemed to be growing as the days passed. He usually ended up abandoning a project to draw sea monsters battling skeletal Pirates.On the outside everything seemed fine. Gerard just liked to keep to himself and maybe he drank too much than what was healthy, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would off himself. He had Mikey. He had Ray. He had a routine and didn’t show any of the signs that they had talked about at Mikey’s doctor appointments. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I didn’t know anything was wrong.” Mikey whispers, echoing Gerard’s thoughts. 

Gerard presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Mikey....”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Mikey demands, “I told you when I started feeling sick.”

Gerard shrugs. It’s different. Mikey was _worth_ saving. But he doesn’t know how to explain that to Mikey so that he would understand. 

“Not good enough.”

Gerard drops his hands and says, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Mikey shakes his head and looks down at the floor. “So you just up and leave?”

“Mikey-”

“How am I, you jus-st, fuck, Gerard,” he croaks, his careful expression breaking into anguish that Gerard’s only seen one other time.

Gerard crosses the room in three long strides and pulls his little brother into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in his ear, stroking his wild hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No,” Mikey sniffles, “you’re not. Not now.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that read the last chapter. This one is a little meatier (no pun intended...).

Gerard never went to sleep. 

He’s sitting at the kitchen table eating another packet of Pop Tarts. Last night he spent hours pacing around the kitchen while Mikey dozed on the couch with Cartoon Network playing softly in the background. Gerard was just too wired and _hungry_. He couldn’t explain it, he’s never felt a hunger like this before. He stood in front of the refrigerator and ate the leftover tacos that Mikey had made, cleaned out multiple yogurt containers, shoved packets of cheese in his mouth, drained the bottles of juice. Nothing seemed to help. 

Mikey grumbles when he sees the empty box of Pop Tarts. “Seriously?”

Gerard freezes, Pop Tart hovering by his lips and he holds it out to Mikey. “Want the last one?”

Mikey smiles softly and shakes his head. “No, it’s ok. It’s probably good that you’re eating.”

Gerard snorts. Mikey was always the type of person that would try to fix everything with food. Gerard sort of blames it on the fact that whenever either of them were sick, their grandmother would come over to watch them so their parents could go to work. She always said you had to feed a cold and would make them guzzle down her chicken noodle soup.

Mikey opts to have coffee instead of breakfast, pouring himself a cup before topping Gerard’s off and sitting at the table. “I can stay here with you today if you want. I can just get my notes from Gabe.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. He trusts Gabe less than Pete with Mikey. “No, Mikes, go to school.”

Mikey frowns, and Gerar gets it. If things were switched, he wouldn’t want to leave Mikey alone either. “Alright, but I’m skipping the show tonight,” he bargains, “I’ll have Pete flyer for me.”

Mikey does a lot of promotion work for Killjoy Records, an independent label that a lot of the kids sign to in the Jersey scene. Him and Pete don’t mind promoting and scouting bands since it gets them into all the free shows they could want. Gerard’s just waiting for the day that Mikey drops out of school to work at the label full time. He’s managed to talk him into at least getting an Associates so he has something to fall back on. 

Mikey goes into the fridge to find something to bring for lunch and frowns. “Jesus, what did you do last night?”

“Eat apparently,” Gerard says, shoving the last of the Pop Tart into his mouth. I’m fucking starving.”

The corners of Mikey’s mouth quirks up, and Gerard’s heart lightens. He looks like his Mikey again, not like someone who just found his brother dead in the bathroom. 

“Well,” he sighs, shutting the door, “Guess that just means you have to go to the grocery store.”

Gerard groans dramatically and Mikey chuckles, “Hey, you did it to yourself. We need more coffee too by the way.”

Gerard glares daggers at him as Mikey gathers his books and shoves them into his bag. He comes over and hovers before putting an arm around him in an awkward hug. Gerard knows it’s going to take them some time to get back to normal again. It’s going to be awhile until Mikey trusts him not to try to leave again. 

Gerard turns so that he can put his arms around him and presses his face against Mikey’s shirt. “I’ll be ok, I promise.”

“I’m going to text you all day, you better answer.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Don’t make me call Ray.”

Gerard grins and pulls away. He should probably call Ray anyway. He could use the company, because the idea of sitting at home by himself all day is starting to feel a little daunting. He usually loves that he gets to work from home in his basement. He likes getting lost in his music and slipping into the inked worlds of his mind. Some days he doesn’t emerge from the basement until Mikey has to physically pull him from his desk and make him eat something. 

He’s never been a grey guy. Things are always one extreme or the other. Either he’s in bed all day and can’t find the motivation to even pick up the remote to turn on the television, or he’s up all night working on projects and chain smoking like a chimney. 

But now, things feel different. It’s not that he doesn’t trust himself to be home alone, there’s just something gnawing at the back of his mind. Something is off. 

“See you in a few hours,” Mikey says, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and fixes him with a look, “Take a shower and go to the store, Gee.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, but nods. 

As soon as Mikey is gone, it feels like the house grew ten sizes too big. It seems too empty without him here. He sits at the kitchen table and mopes a bit while he smokes through a cigarette, before sighing and getting up. 

He goes downstairs and digs through his “mostly clean” pile of clothes to find a shirt that doesn’t smell too bad before fishing out some jeans and underwear. He wrinkles his nose, definitely need to do laundry. They’re starting to get to the point where they’re going to have to turn their underwear inside out. 

When he gets to the bathroom, he hesitates and goes into the bathroom in the master bedroom instead. Neither of them moved into the master bedroom, it bothered them too much to move out Elena’s stuff. Mikey took the room that they used to share when they would come over for the summer and Gerard, of course, claimed the basement. The master bedroom contains a bathroom, and Gerard feels a hell lot more comfortable standing in that tub than the one that Mikey would have found him in yesterday. 

He sets his clothes on the vanity and stares at himself in the mirror. He winces at his reflection. He definitely looks like he died and came back from the grave. He always looked like he was a walking corpse. His round face was pale, and his eyes always looked a little sunken in with shadows pulling under them. But, his skin looked papery, like it would slide off his face any moment. His lips looked dry and cracked and his eyes didn’t even need makeup to achieve the decrypted goth look all the kids were into these days. He shakes his head and turns the shower on. 

He stands under the hot stream of water, placing his hand against the wall and leaning against it as the water cakes his shaggy black hair to his cheeks. There’s that edge still dancing under his skin, the kind that’s reminding him that this is all wrong. He’s not supposed to be here. There was something that Mikey wasn’t telling him, something that would explain how the fuck he was standing in the shower instead of decaying in the ground. 

He looks around and curses when he realizes that there’s no soap in this bathroom since they usually just use the hall bathroom. He sighs and just stands under the hot water, hoping that’ll be enough for Mikey to quit his bitching. 

He makes sure to shove extra deodorant under his arms as he gets dressed, rolling his eyes at the memory of all the kids at school calling him Speed Stick because he stank so bad. So maybe he has a thing about showering? He just thinks that there’s other things he could be doing. Like getting drunk with his brother at a show. 

He quickly towel dries his hair and shoves his feet into his shoes before finding a pair of sunglasses and walking out into the bright morning. Even with the shades he still squints under the daylight. He hates to sound like _that guy_ but he rarely leaves the house before dark. 

It’s weird being outside at this time of day. There’s people walking down the sidewalks, people jogging with their dogs or walking with strollers. He likes his grandma’s neighborhood, it’s pretty quiet, mostly families who are in the house by the time Gerard emerges from the basement. He walks past his neighbor, Mr.Carter...Campbell? Gerard doesn’t do well with names, but the old man is pretty nice. He brought over peanut brittle when Gerard moved in after Elena passed. A couple of times he’s caught Mikey talking to him about baseball, which he thought was sweet. The only thing he doesn’t like about his neighbor is that he has this annoying yapping dog that looks like it crawled out of a sewer. 

Gerard hears the dog then sees it press it’s paws up against the fence. Usually Gerard tries to hurry past him so that he can get the high pitched barks out of his head, but he slows down today. Maybe it’s his near death, or...technically death, experience that’s making him slow down and smell the roses or whatever the fuck it is that you’re supposed to do. But the closer he walks to the fence, the more his stomach _growls_.

The dog stops barking and bares its teeth, growling warningly back. And all Gerard can think about is how hungry he is, how his stomach is lurching forward, how Gerard’s hands are reaching…

“On your left!”

Gerard spins around and nearly gets hit by someone on their bike, and Gerard snaps out of whatever trance he was in. He swallows and realizes he had been _drooling_. Spooked, Gerard hurries to his car and turns the AC up even though it’s cool outside already. He turns all the vents onto his face then pulls out of the driveway with shaky hands. 

What the fuck?

Gerard hates grocery shopping with a passion. He hates being close to other people. Hates the fluorescent lights and the cheap cleaner that coats the tiled floors. Hates the shitty soft rock that always leaks through the speakers and he fucking _hates_ it when a family of five tries to squeeze down the aisle he’s standing in. Mikey usually does the grocery shopping for them. Mikey finds some sick pleasure in going and looking up and down all the aisles, makes a whole fucking day out of it. 

Gerard’s usually gets panicky and just tosses whatever into his cart so he can leave quickly. By the time he gets to the butcher’s counter he has a cart full of vegetables he knows he and Mikey won’t eat, yogurt tubs, more cheese, pizza rolls, frozen fries, and about ten boxes of Pop Tarts. He usually just grabs whatever prepackaged meat is in the refrigerator section, but the glass container with the different cuts of meat is making Gerard’s stomach grumble again. He doesn’t even realize he’s walking towards the counter until he hears an apathetic, “Can I help you?”

Gerard looks up from the red meat he’s been eyefucking and...if he had a pulse still, it would be going haywire. The guy behind the counter looks like the kind of dude that would fuck him sideways and then not text him the next day. He looks like the guys he sees in the mosh pits who lose a sense of reality as they shove their bodies into others. He’s the kind of guy that opens his beers with his teeth, and just smiles when the ridged top cuts into his gums. 

“You going to order?” He smirks.

Gerard feels like he’s going to pass out. There’s just too many sensations going on. The buzz from the fluorescent lights sound like a thousand bees in his eyes. The brightness feels like they’re burning holes into his retinas and his nose is flooded with the smell of the raw hamburger that’s sitting just a few inches from him. 

“Hey,” the guy says, a little softer, “Are you alright?”

Gerard can’t answer, it’s like his throat has closed in on itself. He feels like he’s suffocating on dirt again. The dirt from his grave. 

“Whoa,” he hears, and then there’s a hand on his back and Gerard isn’t sure how he ended up kneeling on the floor, but he’s on his knees with his head pressed against the glass container. 

“Easy,” he hears soothingly, gloved fingers, stroking his hair. “Just breathe, man.”

Gerard doesn’t know how to tell this guy that it doesn’t matter if he breathes or not. He feels so shaky, and weak. 

“Here,” and then there’s a paper cup of water held out to the side of his face. Gerard tries to take it from him, he really does, but the best he can manage is to turn his head. “Alright,” the voice says softly, and then there’s cool hands cupping his jaw and even cooler water trickling past his lips and down his throat, washing away the imaginary dirt that clogging his vocal chords. 

Gerard finally focuses his eyes on his savior and his metal studded lip twists up into a welcoming smile. “Hey, there you are,” he says gently. 

Gerard thinks he’s smiling, so he says, “Thanks.”

“You ok to try and stand up?” 

He nods and lets the guy help him back up to his feet. They’ve drawn a little bit of a crowd, well as much of a crowd that can be found in a grocery store in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. The guy he’s with turns and he can only imagine the withering look he’s tossing at them to get them all to scatter.

“Uh,”Gerard starts, then stops when his savior turns back around.

“Frank,” he says, pointing at the name tag that’s pinned to his shirt. 

“Gerard,” Gerard rasps.

“Alright, Gerard,” Frank says, “You going to be alright? Do you need to call someone?”

Gerard shakes his head, thinking that Mikey can’t handle any more stress or he might have a stroke. “No, I’m fine. I think I’m just hungry,” he says, because that’s sort of what this feels like. It’s like when he forgets to eat all day and then smells what Mikey is cooking and can barely make it up the steps because he’s so weak with hunger. 

Frank furrows his brow. “Let’s get you something packaged up then get you on your way then,” he says. He walks over to Gerard’s cart and opens the box of Pop Tarts and hands him a pack, “Eat something though, and finish your water.”

Gerard bites his lip a little at the instruction, but takes the Pop Tarts and starts eating the pastries. As soon as he gets a bite in though, he’s ravenous again and tries to keep himself under control so that he doesn’t freak Frank out. 

“What did you need?” Frank asks, walking back behind the counter and putting new gloves on. 

“Um,” he says, then just sort of stares at the various cuts of steak and hamburger in the container, and the longer he stares the more his mouth floods with saliva and his stomach growls. 

“Do you want me to just wrap up what’s popular?” Frank says after a beat.

Gerard cringes, but nods. “Yeah...that’d be great,” he manages to get out. If he could blush, he’s sure that his face would be on fire. He’s sure that this Frank guy thinks he’s the biggest freak ever, and he doesn’t even know the half of it. 

But, he just smiles and holds out a plastic shopping bag with paper wrapped meat. “Here you go, man. Get yourself home and eat something,” he says with a smile, like Gerard’s behavior was completely normal. 

Gerard takes the bag and nods jerkily. He wonders if he should say something, even something as normal as “thanks”, but before he has the chance to embarrass himself further, he turns and walks away with his shopping cart. 

*

Look, Gerard’s had his share of embarrassing moments. 

People like Gerard are so wrapped up in self-esteem issues and social awkwardness that it’s sort of inevitable. Couple that with copious amounts of alcohol? Gerard should be used to this by now. 

But the look on Mikey’s face makes him want to crawl under his bed and just curl up and die of embarrassment. If he thought he could die that is. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mikey breathes, setting down his bag on the kitchen table. 

Gerard is currently standing over the sink with a package of raw hamburger meat, shoving it in his mouth like he’s a starving man at Thanksgiving dinner. The issue is that Gerard can’t stop. Even though he knows it’s gross and unhealthy and he’ll probably get E. Coli or whatever kind of bacteria that crawls around raw meat. Even though Mikey is staring at him like he’s some crazy person he’s never seen before. And this is coming from the guy that’s watched Gerard throw up in his girlfriend’s cat litter box. Mikey’s seen some shit, so this is _bad_.

“Gerard,” Mikey says, pulling the package from his hands, “Stop!”

And something just snaps in Gerard.

He growls, grits his teeth and _growls_ like a fucking animal at Mikey, his body coiling like he’s going to pounce at him. Mikey’s eyes grow wide and he stands frozen as Gerard reaches out and takes his meal back, shoving it in his face until there’s nothing left. 

It’s not until then that he sees the wax paper from Frank wrapping the meat up, still shining and tinged red that the weight of what he’s done starts to set in. He stumbles back against the kitchen sink and stares up at Mikey. 

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” he whispers. 

*

Yeah. There was something wrong with Gerard.

He was annoyed that Pete Wentz was standing in his living room poking at him like he was some sort of science experiment. 

“Shouldn’t you know what you’re doing before you just start handing out spells?” Gerard bites out, “ _Especially_ spells about bringing people back from the dead?”

Pete just frowns, and Gerard feels a little bad about giving the guy such a hard time. He knows he was just trying to help Mikey, Gerard can only imagine what kind of state his brother was in when he found Gerard. 

“Haven’t you seen _Pet Cemetery_?” Gerard says, a little softer with hopes of lightening the mood. 

Mikey smiles his little half-assed smile, and Gerard’s chest stops squeezing so much. “You’re not a damn cat, Gee.”

“Yeah, so it’s like...double the shit right? What if I start attacking you? I _already_ almost pounced on you for taking away the…”he trails off and grimaces. 

After finishing his odd choice of lunch, he felt a lot better. The buzz in his head was gone and he no longer fantasized about eating the neighbor’s dog. But now he just felt sick to his stomach, though he’s pretty sure that was just from thinking about what was settling in his stomach. Gerard’s not even a huge fan of meat. Him and Mikey bounced back from being vegetarian and not, mostly they ate meat because it was convenient with all the take out and fast food they got. 

“Raw hamburger meat,” Mikey finishes for him, then looks at Pete with a raised eyebrow, “Yeah, what the fuck did you do to my brother?”

Pete’s frown just deepens and he takes a step back from Gerard, slipping his hands back in his pockets. “I mean he looks a lot better than he did yesterday.”

Mikey considers Gerard for a minute and softens. “He’s right, Gee. You do look a lot better.”

Gerard frowns. “Yeah...but there’s raw meat currently digesting in my stomach. That’s not normal.”

“Don’t people eat raw food all the time?” Pete asks, “Like sushi.”

Mikey furrows his eyebrows at Pete, who blushes. The kid has no filter, but Gerard tries not to hold that against him right now. This is really confusing to everyone.

“What the fuck did you guys do?” Gerard asks, sagging back on the couch and lighting a cigarette. 

Pete rocks back on his feet and looks at the ground, his nose wrinkling. “I mean, do you want me to tell you--”

“The exact spell,” Gerard says, “Tell me exactly what you did.”

“Why does it matter?” Mikey asks, looking pale as well. 

Gerard narrows his eyes like _what the fuck did you do?_

And Mikey rolled his eyes like _let it go already_. 

Pete just looked between them, then sighed. “I hate it when you guys do that.”

Gerard ends up calling Ray to come over because that’s what the Way brothers did when they were in crisis mode. As soon as he walked into the living room and took in the guilty expressions of Pete and Mikey, then the bleakness plastered on Gerard’s face he sighed, “What now?”

“I’m pretty sure we turned Gerard into a zombie,” Pete mumbles.

Gerard’s eyes bug out of his head and he feels like throwing the lamp at him for a moment, but then the weird comic book hermit in him thinks _zombie? Cool._ And Mikey snorts, seeing the consideration written all over Gerard’s face. 

The next conversation is hard though. Ray’s face falls, and that’s always such a kick in the gut to Gerard. Ray was one of those guys that was always smiling even when he was stressed the fuck out and hovering over his laptop trying to mix whatever musical creation he was working on at the time. He was always the level headed one, and typically the one that got the Way boys out of trouble the most. Gerard’s lost count of how many times Ray has come to pick him up from the bar, it’s gotten to the point that the bartender just calls Ray after a certain number of drinks have been poured. 

Ray gives Mikey and Pete a look, and Mikey makes an excuse to go smoke outside even though there’s ashtrays littered throughout the house. Gerard looks down at his knees when Ray sits next to him and fixes him with that concerned stare that’s all heart and not the least bit of pitying. The kind that always makes Gerard’s heart ache with guilt. Ray was such a great friend and Gerard felt like he was constantly letting him down. 

“Hey,” Ray says softly, “You going to tell me what’s been going on?”

And so, since he really doesn’t have a reason to hide anymore, Gerard tells him about the days where he can’t get out of bed. He tells him the circling thoughts of hopelessness he has that get caught on his neurons and won’t give him any peace of mind. Let’s him know that he feels like the life is slowly getting sucked out of him and he doesn’t understand why when his life is pretty good. He has a job that lets him draw at home all day and a brother who is his best friend in the world. And the sadness just makes him feel guilty.

“Gee…” Ray starts softly, and Gerard shakes his head, because he knows what he’s going to say. That Gerard needs to go see a doctor and get some help. That these are all textbook signs of depression that could probably get fixed with a regular trip to a therapist and a prescription, but Gerard doesn’t know how to tell him he doesn’t even have the energy to do that. And that the darker part of him doesn’t want to get better. Because what if this is just how he is? What if this fucked up sad little artist persona he’s made for himself is all he is and if they smooth all that out, what’s going to be left of him?

But he wishes he had taken it more seriously when he starts to tell Ray about the bathtub. He would do anything to not have to watch the way Ray just breaks apart. And this just isn’t fair. He took all those pills to escape this, exactly this. It’s not fair that he has to go around and tell the people he loves that he tried to die, but he couldn’t even get that right and now he has to explain himself. 

Ray doesn’t cry though, he looks like he’s going to, but he holds it together and Gerard really appreciates that. He’s not trying to make Gerard feel guilty either, and it’s not about Ray, so they just move past that. Ray puts his hand on Gerard’s shoulder and squeezes and Gerard nods, and then they let it go. 

“What was Pete talking about?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. 

Mikey and Pete come back inside at that point, and it’s another instance where he’s convinced him and Mikey just share one brain. Mikey gives him a knowing look and sits down before explaining yesterday, with Gerard filling in what happened at the grocery store-- “hang on,” Mikey cuts in, then grins, “Did you get Frank’s number?”

“Totally not the point, Mikey,” Gerard sighs, exasperated. 

Ray grins at them, and Gerard feels a little more settled back into his skin at the normality of all of this. Well, maybe not the conversation, but the two brothers giving each other shit and Ray just shaking his head with a smile. It’s the most normal he’s felt since everything happened yesterday. 

“Anyway,” Gerard continues, and tells Ray about the hamburger and again, Ray is a fucking saint because he doesn’t look like he’s going to throw up like Gerard would have guessed. 

“Alright,” Ray says finally after getting caught up on the last twenty-four hours, and _fuck_ Gerard thinks he should feel exhausted right now. “Yeah, uh, sounds like a zombie?” He says with his voice raising an octave at “zombie.”

Pete looks green and just shifts in his seat, Gerard stares at him. 

“It’s not like he’s eating people,” Mikey offers, and shrugs, because really...what the fuck are they all supposed to say here. 

“I wanted to eat the neighbor’s dog.”

Well, that apparently.

Mikey’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair. “Sniffles?”

“Oh, God, that’s the dog’s name?” Gerard frowns.

“But you didn’t…” Pete says, looking like he’s going to be sick--no doubt thinking about Hemmingway right now. “Right?”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “No, I didn’t fucking eat Sniffles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Frank is vegan in this fic. Yes he works at a butcher counter. Yes there will be jokes about it later.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter due to me being busy this holiday weekend...and no I don't mean I was being social with fireworks, I was writing an angsty Peterick [oneshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099966) (check it out if that's your vibe). Anyway, I'm glad to have my attention back on zombie Gerard.

So they sort of get into a shaky rhythm of things. 

Ray wants to stay over, but Gerard already feels awkward enough without an additional babysitter, so he manages to convince him to head back home. Ray gives him a good stare down and warns, “You better tell me if anything else weird starts happening, you know, like if Mikey ends up being a werewolf or something.”

Mikey snorts and Pete whispers, “so cool”, but otherwise, Gerard manages to convince Ray that no one is going to die (again) while he’s gone. 

Gerard still hasn’t slept since he woke up in a coffin. At first he just moped on the couch watching old horror movies that their mom used to watch with them, and that just honestly makes him more depressed because he didn’t even think about what he’s going to tell his mom. He thinks he should probably say something before Thanksgiving so he doesn’t show up and start chowing down on raw meat at the dinner table. Especially if his mom invites her friend Francie from the barber shop like she does every year, she’s so Catholic Gerard almost talks himself into going to Mass after each dinner just out of guilt alone. 

But after a week or two of watching every horror movie they own, Gerard tries to find other ways to occupy his time. Some of them aren’t as productive as others. Mikey woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and found Gerard sitting in the sink, drawing the Bowie lightning bolt on his face. They had just looked at each other and Mikey shuffled at the doorway. “Can you give me a minute, dude?”

“Use the other bathroom,” Gerard had said with a huff, then realized why Mikey was also only using the bathroom in the master bedroom and sighed, “oh, sorry.”

Mikey just gave him a tight smile and they didn’t talk about it again. 

And then Gerard starts writing at night. He decides to use the day time for his art and commission work, and then at night he’ll write his comics. And it’s really fucking cool, Gerard decides, that he doesn’t have to sleep because now he can get all this work done. He fills three notebooks just within the first week of rough sketches for his comic, about a Bonnie and Clyde type couple who go on a murder spree. And at first he just gets into the comic, but then he’s writing poetry or something to go with it because--why the fuck not? It’s not like he has anything else to do--and then he groans, because he’s starting to turn into that Pete Wentz kid. 

Who he’s starting to not really hate anymore, even if he did turn him into a zombie. He keeps hanging around the house, and Gerard’s starting to see why Mikey is so drawn to him. He’s a pretty enigmatic force, and completely shameless which is a deadly combo. He walks right through their front door--and Gerard's worried because either Mikey gave him a key, which he’s not that thrilled about, or Pete is really good at picking a lock-- and comes up behind Mikey, kissing him on the back of the neck and saying things against Mikey’s ear that makes him blush and giggle in the way that Gerard has never seen. He’s making Mikey come more out of his shell, and Gerard has to admit, it’s pretty cute to see them straightening their hair together in Mikey’s small vanity mirror. 

So Gerard is getting used to not sleeping, but he’s not so sure he’ll get used to his new diet. He tries to fight it as much as possible, thinking if he just eats a shit ton of food, it’ll satiate him enough to not have to eat like a zombie. 

“Well, you’re already doing pretty good,” Pete muses, throwing his legs on Mikey’s lap as they watch _Jeopardy!_ , “Aren’t zombies supposed to eat brains?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard snaps, shoving the rest of his Hot Pocket into his mouth, “Aren’t you the expert?”

Mikey gives him a stern look and Gerard rolls his eyes, feeling more irritated and he knows, he fucking _knows_ , it has something to do with the fact that he’s gone a week since the hamburger incident. 

“I don’t think you should starve yourself, man,” Pete says softly, “You look like shit and you’re sorta acting like a zombie.”

Gerard snorts and opens a pack of fruit snacks. “I’m not stumbling around mumbling _brains_.”

But Gerard knows that they’re right, so the next day he heads to the grocery store again with Mikey’s instructions to “Get that butcher’s number and replenish my pickle chips that you ate you fucking heathen.”

And this time, Gerard makes quick work of going through the aisles to grab more snacks, because even if they don’t fully satiate Gerard’s hunger, he really loves to fucking snack. And he makes sure to get his brother’s damn pickle chips before he heads to the butcher counter. 

Frank beams at him as he pushes his cart over. “Hey, you’re upright and everything today.”

Gerard forces himself to smile, but he’s sure he’s thinking about it too much and his smile comes out really fucking creepy. _Great job_ , he thinks grumpily, _we’re trying to_ not _look like a creature of the night_. 

“So what can I get you?” Frank asks. 

Gerard keeps his eyes on Frank, not wanting to have a full on meltdown again by chancing a look at the case. “Whatever is your favorite.”

Frank wrinkles his nose. “I don’t eat meat, I’m a vegan.”

That pulls a genuine smile from Gerard and he even manages a chuckle, “But you work at a butcher counter?”

“Yeah, because I have bills and my dad knows the grocery store owner,” he says, shrugging like he doesn’t see the humor in this. 

“What do you want to be doing?”

“Well I’m in a band,” Frank says which paints some very vivid images in Gerard’s mind. Mostly of Frank shirtless withering on stage with a guitar, and he has to start thinking about jello molds to get his dick to behave. “We mostly play around here, but we’re trying to break out of the city and spread out a bit.”

“Oh wow,” Gerard says, “That’s awesome. My brother and I tried to do the band thing, but it didn’t really work out.”

Frank grins at him, not like he’s impressed, more like he finds Gerard playing in a band endearing. Which, ok, Gerard knows he’s the typical comic book nerd and has no business trying to squeeze into skinny jeans to prance around on stage. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

Gerard winces, because here’s the embarrassing part. “Well, I sorta suck at guitar.”

Frank’s grin widens and he holds Gerard’s gaze for a moment, making Gerard’s body go through all of the responses of being embarrassed even though he doesn’t have blood pumping in his body to create a blush on his cheeks or the working glands to make his hands start to sweat. But he feels the same whooshing waves of mortification crashing against his mind. “You would be surprised by how many people in the scene suck at guitar. It’s all about attitude.”

“Which I also don’t have,” Gerard mumbles, looking down at his scuffed shoes. 

“Nah,” Frank almost _purrs_ , and Gerard chants _jello mold jello mold gross chunks of pears in jello mold_ , “You know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones.”

Gerard looks up at Frank through his lashes and he’s practically leaning over the counter. Gerard could take one step and they’d be close enough for Frank to kiss him. And Gerard hasn’t been kissed in so long. Longer if he’s only counting the kisses he’s had sober. He’s forgotten what this was like, this _want_ because Gerard had all but accepted that he just wouldn’t have that. He wasn't thin and strikingly beautiful like Mikey, wasn’t social like him where he could walk into any party and instantly know someone. Gerard was pale, with a round face and hollowed eyes from not sleeping and drinking too much. He had curves in all the wrong places and the self-esteem of a girl dumped on prom night. 

He was never great at picking up anyone in the first place. His whole time in high school was just one big cringe fest, especially when he realized that he liked guys maybe more than girls--which just made him a bigger target for the bullying. He tended to keep to himself in high school, sitting out in the alley behind the school to smoke cigarettes and draw bats on his jeans. Then in college, he started drinking and it was easy to fake the confidence when he couldn’t even remember his name. He got laid enough to make him not feel like such a loser, but he was always so embarrassing when he drank that sometimes he felt like people only slept with him as a joke. 

And if he wasn’t dating material in high school or college, he surely wasn’t now that he was the undead. Especially as his eyes drift from Frank’s full pierced lips to the pulse that he can see in his neck and--weren’t neck fetishes a vampire thing? But he can’t help but fantasize wrapping his lips around Frank’s jugular and gnawing on the flesh there. It would probably be so much more satisfying than raw meat wrapped in saran wrap. 

Gerard manages to take two steps back and cough. “Um, yeah, so…”

Frank is still leaning over the counter with that wicked smile, he just stares at Gerard for a moment like _he’s_ the one in danger of being devoured whole--and well, Gerard wouldn’t really mind. “So,” Frank grins, still looking Gerard up and down, “Why don’t I wrap up your meat for you?”

_Fucking JELLO MOLDS_.

*

“Is it the same if you cook it?” Mikey wonders, unwrapping the steak and setting it one the counter. 

Gerard moans from the other side of the room, trying so hard not to be weird, but obviously failing tremendously at it. “I don’t know, just...let’s give it a try? I really don’t want to be a freak of nature.”

“You’re a zomb--”

“Yes, I know that!” Gerard snaps, getting irritated and a little wary that his voice sounds supernatural. 

Mikey looks at him like he’s completely unphased. “Alright, I’ll just give it a good sear. People eat rare steaks all the time.”

“Yes,” Gerard groans, “God, that sounds so good.”

“Do you want... like some garlic salt on it?”

Gerard raises an eyebrow and Mikey nods, turning back around, “Yeah, yeah, ok, I get it. But just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can't enjoy a well seasoned steak.”

Gerard snorts and walks over to where Mikey is standing at the stove, heating a cast iron skillet. He hooks his chin over Mikey’s boney shoulder and watches as he sets the steak in the little bit of oil, swallowing the saliva that floods his mouth as soon as he hears the sizzling. 

“See,” Mikey says, “This will be good. We’ll figure out a way for you to blend in.”

“And not eat people,” Gerard says, moving away from Mikey to get a soda from the refrigerator, eyeing the beer in there forlornly. He had found out during one of his insomniatic nights that he could no longer get drunk. He had drained the whole bottle of vodka that he kept in the freezer, but nothing happened. Not even a little buzz. But, he supposes it’s for the better. Ray had been trying to get him to get sober for a while, and now he has without having to go through those nasty withdrawal symptoms. Though, he’s not sure if he’d trade withdrawal for dying and coming back a zombie. 

“Or the dog,” Mikey mutters, because that’s still a thing. 

Mikey, like promised, sears both sides then sets it on a plate and gives it to Gerard. Gerard had totally planned on sitting at the table like a civilized person, but he just grabs the steak with his hand and bites into it, groaning loudly and all but swallowing it whole. 

He’s licking the mess on his hands when he realizes that Mikey is still standing in front of him with the plate in his hand. “Alright,” Mikey says cautiously, “I’d say that’s an improvement to eating raw ground beef over the sink, but maybe we can try a fork and knife next time?”

Gerard sucks the blood off his thumb and smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ll remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr](https://throwupsparkles.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no explanation for this chapter...

So Gerard’s been having an embarrassing...issue, something that he sort of just ignored up until now. The thing is, well, with the whole  _ not having blood _ thing, Gerard hasn’t been able to get himself off since he died. And it hadn’t really been an issue, Gerard would gladly trade in orgasms if it means he gets to be alive again--and yeah, he’s starting to process that more, the wanting to be alive thing. It’s kinda annoying how sayings like “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone” are so true. 

But anyway, Gerard didn’t really care that he couldn’t get it up. He had all but gotten to the point where jerking off was just habitual anyway. It wasn’t like he had anyone interested in him to fantasize about, and he rarely left the house as it was...so unless he thought about Mary Anne, the ninety year old at the art supply store, he wasn’t really getting any images for the spank bank. Well, there was that period of time where he kept thinking about Christina Ricci, but he could only get off to an unattainable fantasy for so long before it just got depressing. 

Gerard had really just accepted his pathetic sex life, but then he met Frank, Frank with his beautiful lips and his mischievous hazel eyes, with his tattoos teasing him through his horribly tacky uniform and his long calloused fingers that Gerard could find some good use for. And suddenly Gerard is  _ buzzing _ with want. He draws him over and over in his sketchbook, thinking that if he gets him down on paper he can get him out of his mind, but it’s not working. He’s all worked up that he even considers going for a  _ jog _ , but that would really tip Mikey off that something is wrong and there’s no way he’s talking to his little brother about his supernatural erectile dysfunction. 

And there’s an embarrassing moment where Gerard is laying on his bed in the middle of the night with his hand down his pants near fucking tears because he just can’t get any releif. And this is so cruel. He knows suicide is a sin, but this is an unimaginable hell. 

But Gerard is a fucking masochist, so he keeps going to the grocery store. 

Everyday. 

Partly because Gerard found that he really doesn’t like it when the meat isn’t fresh. If it sits in the fridge, it starts to taste more processed and the blood coagulates or something--at least that’s Ray’s theory. But the main reason is that he just wants to see Frank. 

Frank pretends to be pleasantly surprised everyday when Gerard shows up and picks out different cuts of meat until they’ve sorted out which ones Gerard prefers. And through all of this, Gerard’s starting to feel...more human. 

“You look better,” Mikey says, staring at him with a small smile as Gerard leans his head over in the sink to wash out the teal hair dye, “Like...a lot better. I think the, um, diet change is helping.”

And it really was. He noticed when he got home from the grocery store that his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He had stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment, biting his lip and watching it turn red from the blood rushing to the surface. “Weird,” he had whispered. 

“Yeah?” Gerard asks, towel drying his hair, “What do you think of this color?”

“You know you have to bleach your hair for that to actually show up,” Mikey says with a grin. 

Gerard frowns. “Oh, oh yeah, fuck…”

“But, your roots are teal?” Mikey says taking a strand in his hair and regarding it, “It looks kinda sweet actually.”

Gerard beams at him, “Really?”   


Mikey gives him that fond smile that he only really sees directed at him that always makes him feel warm and fuzzy. “Does this experiment with your hair have something to do with Frank?”

Gerard blushes,  _ he actually blushes _ , and Mikey laughs with a wondrous smile, like he had forgotten that Gerard could blush anymore. Because while having Gerard back from the dead meant the world, Mikey and Gerard had learned pretty quickly that it wasn’t exactly the same. Of course Mikey would take Gerard however he could, but it was sort of like having the television on but the picture is all wonky so it ruins the experience. Gerard had been a little wonky these past few weeks, but things were looking up. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Gerard mumbles, looking in the mirror and he smiles, because, yeah, the teal roots are kinda cool. 

Especially when Frank’s face lights up the next day. “Dude! You’re hair!” He exclaims with a wide smile.

Frank’s smile is infectious and Gerard can’t help but beam at him and,  _ Jesus Fucking Christ _ , he really wishes he could stop blushing now. And then,  _ oh God _ , thinking about the blood in his cheeks is making him think of other parts of him that might react to Frank more properly now that he apparently has his blood circulation back, and really, he’s not sure this is such a great thing anymore. Maybe not being able to get it up was a blessing because, fuck--

“Hey, so,” Frank starts, looking Gerard up and down again like he’s worth processing. Gerard wonders if maybe Frank’s hit his head one too many times in the mosh pit, because he has no idea why he’s looking at Gerard like that. Like he’s not dressed in the same Dawn of the Dead t-shirt he had on yesterday with paint splattered jeans and a leather jacket that’s so old it’s literally disintegrating off him. “Um, I’m about to go on lunch, do you wanna go hit up a Taco Bell or something?”

Gerard tries to mask his surprise, but it clearly doesn’t work because Frank chuckles at him, soft and fond like Gerard’s social awkwardness is cute. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he manages to get out, and he’s glad that he ate a steak before he came because he really doesn’t want to wolf down twenty tacos in front of Frank like a damn animal. 

“Cool, let’s go then,” Frank says, sticking a sign that says “out to lunch, be back soon” on top of the counter before peeling off his white apron. Gerard looks away quickly because it’s not fucking fair for Frank to look like  _ that _ when Gerard hasn’t had sex in...Jesus, is it  _ years _ now? And he hasn’t even gotten himself off since he died. So, Frank’s tight little shirt that rides up his stomach to show off bits of ink is really not cool. Frank shrugs on a jacket and leads the way out of the store. 

“I’ll drive,” he says, pointing to a car that Gerard doubts actually can move with all the rust that’s coating it. There’s at least a thousand stickers on the back of the car ranging from The Misfits’ logo and a cow holding up the middle finger that says “Leave My Tits Alone”. Frank has to open his door with a key and then lean over to unlock Gerard’s door. 

Gerard sits down, not really caring that there’s trash at his feet and a crunching sound under him that makes him sure he’s probably sat on a bunch of chips. Gerard realizes he’s sitting rigid, trying not to brush shoulders in the small car. He tries to relax a bit so Frank doesn’t think he’s having a stroke or something, but then Frank reaches out to mess with the stereo and his hand brushes Gerard’s.

And Gerard just sort of attacks him. 

Not in a creepy zombie way. 

All Gerard can focus on is the way Frank doesn’t even gasp, doesn’t hesitate at all like he  _ knew _ that this would happen. As if it was the plan the whole time. Frank kisses Gerard like he’s made out of oxygen, sucking at his lips like they’re the holy grail he’s been searching for. Gerard tries to seem like he does this all the time, but he just can’t help the pathetic needy noises that leak out of his mouth. He tries to just overthink the way Frank’s lips move over his, how the lip ring bites into his chapped lips, how Frank soothes over the irritation with his wicked tongue. 

Frank cups Gerard’s face with his cool hands, fingertips freezing, and coaxes Gerard’s mouth open with his tongue and Gerard has always thought french kissing was awkward and weird, but Frank doesn’t really give him any time to hesitate, just shoves his tongue down Gerard’s throat and grips his hair to tilt his head up. And Gerard moans, loud and embarrassingly wanton, because holy fuck, this is the  _ dirtiest _ kiss he’s ever had and he’s pretty sure Frank’s ruined him for any kisses he might have in the future. He’s sure nothing will ever compare to this, Frank holding Gerard’s head in the perfect angle so he can fuck his throat with his tongue, and that just unleashes the wildness in Gerard that Frank had jokingly hinted at before. 

Gerard’s not sure if Frank pulled him into his seat, or if Gerard climbed into his lap on his own accord, but he’s grinding down on Frank and  _ thank God  _ for regular blood flow now. Frank kisses down his neck, cupping him through his jeans and Gerard is a withering, whimpering mess. 

Frank kisses back up and licks his jaw, one of his hands stroking his cheek. “Easy, baby, I’ve got you,” he purrs, unbuttoning Gerard’s jeans with one hand while his other one keeps stroking Gerard’s cheek like he’s a wild animal needing to be tamed. 

Gerard tries to control his breathing, tries to focus on the fact that he even can breathe and it actually fills his lungs, but then he’s breathless again once Frank wraps his hand around Gerard’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, eyes fluttering closed and his head dipping back. 

“No, no,” Frank scolds lightly, taking his hand away, causing Gerard to whine, “look at me.”

Gerard does and bites back another moan as Frank licks his hand with a smirk then wraps his slick hand around Gerard again. 

Gerard knows this is going to be over embarrassingly quick, and he thinks about trying to hold off as long as possible, but it just flies out the window because Gerard is rocking into Frank’s hand with reckless abandonment. Frank twists his wrist and that’s all it takes for Gerard to bow forward and press his face into Frank’s neck. And his heavy scent is maddening, pulling Gerard away from the car and wrapping him in Frank, in the scent of stale tobacco, crisp autumn air, and car motor oil. 

Gerard’s babbling against Frank’s skin and then all too soon, his body goes rigid and white hot fire sears through his body and he’s floating. 

When he comes back to his body, Frank is stroking the back of his head and pressing small kisses against his temple. Gerard presses a reciprocating kiss into his neck, and upon feeling Frank’s breath hitch, he realizes that Frank is still painfully hard against Gerard’s thigh. 

He reaches down to pull the lever under Frank’s seat and push him back from the steering wheel. Frank stares at him in confusion, but his eyes darken when Gerard slides down to the floor of the car on his knees, not caring that his jeans are getting caught on something sticky. He makes quick work of Frank’s jeans and then he watches with hungry eyes as Frank’s cock springs free against his stomach. Gerard looks up at Frank, watching his eyes roll in the back of his head as Gerard sucks at the head. 

“Fuck,  _ please _ ,” Frank chokes out.

Gerard smirks around his cock, reaches down to cup his balls and then sinks down until he feels Frank hit the back of his throat. Gerard might be horribly awkward, even more awkward in bed with all his insecurity and wondering how his body looks twisted in weird angles, but he fucking loves sucking cock. He loves the way it stretches his lips, pulls the corners of his mouth, makes his jaw ache, and brings tears to his eyes as he tests his gag reflex over and over. There’s just something so fucking dirty about being on his knees getting fucked in the mouth that really drives him up the wall. 

And by the warning, “Gerard,” from Frank, he knows he’s good at this. 

Gerard doesn’t stop, just takes him as far as he can and swallows, feeling Frank’s cock pulse between his lips. 

Frank sags back against his seat and mutters dazed, “I knew it.”

Gerard rests his chin on Frank’s thigh and smiles shyly up at him. Frank looks down at Gerard like he’s gearing up for round two, using his thumb to swipe at Gerard’s bottom lip. He gathers the spilled come there and then sucks it off his thumb, “ready to go get burritos now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a comment about Gerard's dick not working last chapter and it just made me laugh because...guys I had a plan. There wasn't going to be a lack of zombie sex, who do you take me for ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions so far--you all are amazing <3
> 
> *there's some light references to drug use, be safe my friends *

Gerard’s not really sure what the etiquette of car blow jobs are, but he’s pretty glad that Frank seems to not really give a damn. After peeling himself off the floor of the car, and finding out that he had in fact been kneeling on a wad of gum, he clumsily climbed back to his seat. And there just wasn’t really a graceful way of doing that, but Frank didn’t laugh or really say anything. He just pushed in a CD into the stereo, then pulled out of the parking lot. 

Frank liked to talk a lot, which was cool because Gerard was still pretty speechless over the whole thing. He’s never dated before, so much of his sexual experiences ended with him crawling out of bed and trying to get dressed as quickly as possible so he could brood in the privacy of his own home. 

But that was kind of hard to do in a moving vehicle, and Frank wasn’t acting like he wanted Gerard to leave or anything. He kept asking him questions like what his favorite movie was--Suspiria, what he thought of horror remakes-- _ Texas Chainsaw Massacre  _ hadn’t been too awful, and what he thought of the torture porn movie craze--he still hasn’t finished the first _Saw_ movie. Frank only pauses his questioning to roll down his window and order for them, and Gerard mumbles that he only wants a crunchwrap supreme--to which Frank orders him three. And then they sit in the parking lot with full bellies and Baja Blasts when Frank moves onto questioning him about music. 

Gerard doesn’t realize he hasn’t talked this much in so long until his voice honestly starts hurting. He has Ray and Mikey of course, but it’s not the same. After hanging out for years, Ray sorta can just fill in the blanks of Gerard’s silence, and Mikey just knows what Gerard is thinking most times. Frank pushes him to elaborate when he gives a vague answer, and then asks a follow-up question until Gerard starts to actually feel comfortable talking about his interests and thoughts, because Frank doesn’t really give him any time to hesitate and feel uncomfortable. 

But then he turns the car off and gives Gerard a rueful smile, “I have to head back in.”

“Oh,” Gerard blinks, “Yeah, wow, I didn’t realize we’d been gone for so long.”

Frank smirks, which just makes Gerard blush. 

“Hey,” he says as Gerard is getting out of the car, “My band is playing this weekend, um, hold on”--he digs through the pile of trash in the back seat and finds a small postcard sized paper and hands it to Gerard-- “here. You should come.”

Gerard bites his lip to keep from smiling like an idiot and nods. “Yeah,” he says, then to make sure he doesn’t sound like a clingy boyfriend already, he tacks on, “maybe.”

Frank tongues at his lip ring, staring at Gerard like he’s debating something, then leans across the center console, “Come here.”

Gerard ducks back into the car and pauses in front of Frank who just gives him a feigned innocent smile and kisses him, slow and soft like he hadn’t just been shoving his tongue down his throat less than an hour ago. “See you there,” he says with an air of finality. 

“Ok,” Gerard breathes.

*

The thing about coming back to life is that it’s not a magic cure all. 

The first few weeks were a shock to his system, he was just trying not to eat Sniffles or attack Frank at the grocery store, but now that he’s developed a routine, he doesn’t really have anything to keep his mind from spiraling back into old patterns. And the worst part is that when he feels low, he can’t just sleep for days on end like he used to. 

He just lays there with all his thoughts circling him.

Sometimes he tries to think back to when he started feeling like this, to see if there was an event or something that ruined him for the rest of his life. Because at least then he could maybe find a way to fix it. But it always freaks him out when he thinks back to how long he’s felt this hopeless. His teens for sure, but he’s pretty confident that a lot of teens felt the same as he did in high school. Middle school, sure, there were a lot of hormones or whatever going on then and that’s everyone’s super awkward phase. But when he keeps going back the excuses start to run dry and he becomes more convinced that there’s just something wrong with  _ him _ . Thinks that it’s fucked up that when he was five years old he would hide in a dark closet and press his hands over his ears, wondering if this silence would be what death was like. 

The worst part, the absolute  _ worst _ , was that he had Mikey. And sometimes that helped, like when Mikey could just look at him and know he was going through the thick of it again. There was comfort in knowing that someone was looking out for him. And Mikey would always let him have the last of the pizza rolls or let him pick the movie on those days. But it hurt to have him there, because there was no way to really explain to him that it wasn’t Mikey’s fault. 

Despite being the youngest, Mikey had always sort of taken care of Gerard. It was like Mikey got the manual to life when Gerard had just been dumped out of the box and assembled with impatient hands. Mikey was a lot more stable than Gerard, sort of just understood things and made it his job to help Gerard the best that he could. 

Most of the time that had just meant helping Gerard stay upright when he had too much to drink at the parties that Mikey managed to bring Gerard too, because apparently getting wasted in a room full of people was better than getting wasted in the basement alone. In the beginning it was sort of funny, quiet Gerard being so loud and handsy with everyone. Drunk Gerard was the life of the party, willing to take the extra shot or shotgun a beer just to draw in a crowd. It was weird for Gerard to think about when he was nursing a hangover the next morning, how Gerard had craved attention--became sort of a performer and developed a new character that he was able to hide behind. Because it was easier to talk in front of a room full of people when they weren’t talking to Gerard, they were talking to this fucked up, self-destructive character that everyone always had a soft spot for. 

But then things got scary. Because Gerard wasn’t able to separate himself from the character anymore, so much so that Mikey started to look at him with worried eyes. The same that had looked at him when Mikey would climb into Gerard’s bed after a nightmare as a kid. That kind of fear. Only Mikey couldn’t hide in Gerard when he was the problem, so he withdrew from him. Whenever Gerard stumbled down a hallway, Mikey disappeared behind a door with a guy he could get lost in instead. 

And it hurt, fucking  _ hurt _ that he had been pushing away Mikey, but he couldn’t  _ stop _ . And it wasn’t even like he still liked getting shit faced anymore, it was a necessity at that point. He couldn’t sit with his thoughts sober anymore, he needed to drown them until they got murky and swimmy. 

But whenever the alcohol wore off and Gerard had to peel himself off the bathroom floor, the self-disdain set in and Gerard couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror. And Mikey couldn’t look at him. And whenever Ray came over, he looked at Gerard like he was already a ghost. 

So, Gerard just didn’t see what the big deal was in dying when he felt like he had been dead for such a long time already. 

*

“Can you  _ please _ come with me?”

Mikey peels off the shirt he was wearing and tossed it over to Pete, “I think this one looks better on you.”

Pete smiles fondly at him and slips it over the horrible pink polo shirt he’s got on. Gerard doesn’t understand his fashion sense at all. The other day he showed up in fur boots and a beret. And the worst part, or endearing depending on how Gerard felt that day, was that his horrible style was bleeding onto Mikey. Mikey was starting to wear knit caps and flared jeans from the girls section at Target.

“You know that it’s a little pathetic to ask your younger brother to tag along on your date,” Mikey drawls as he slips on another black t-shirt. 

Gerard huffs and sits on Mikey’s bed, moving Pete’s legs only to have them stretch back out on his lap. “Pete will come,” he says looking at Pete, “right? Then it’ll be like a double date.”

Pete smiles sweetly at him, probably just happy that Gerard approves of him dating his younger brother. Something tells Gerard that Pete isn’t the kind of guy that gets taken home to mom very often, but Gerard smiles a little knowing that Donna will probably love the guy. Their mom was always fond of the weird and misfits. 

“Come on, Mikey Way,” Pete smiles, “It’s a show. You like shows.”

Mikey stares at Pete, and for a moment Gerard is hit with something ugly in his chest because there was a time when only Gerard was able to communicate silently with Mikey. But he watches as Mikey’s usual emotionless expression shifts into a smile, a real smile--not a smirk, and sees the warmness from Pete’s wondrous charisma flash in Mikey’s eyes. “Alright,” he says softly. 

Gerard is starting to like this Pete Wentz kid. 

That is until Pete is coming at Gerard with an eyeliner pencil. “ _ Trust _ me,” he says holding onto Gerard’s chin and stabbing at him with the black pencil. 

“Ow, Jesus,” Gerard bites out, blinking.

“Don’t blink.”

Gerard blinks.

“Don’t blink”

He blinks again.

“Gerard--”

“Deal with it,” Gerard whines and then huffs a laugh when Pete quirks his eyebrow at him and tries again. “I can do my own makeup you know.”

“Yeah, but I’m better at it,” Pete grins, smudging the bottom liner a bit. “What are you doing about your hair?”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Gerard wonders out loud. 

“Nothing,” Mikey says, shooting Pete a look. “You look great, Frank’s not going to be able to keep his hands off you.”

“Kinda has to so he can play guitar.”

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Fucking dork.”

Gerard likes these moments where it feels like everything is normal. Where Mikey is looking at him like he’s proud of him or something, like getting dressed up and going on a date is such a big deal. Where Pete is trying to still win Gerard over by helping him with his make up even though Pete’s won him over a long time ago with the way he treats his brother. 

But the illusion gets shattered when Gerard gnaws on a rare strip steak in the car as Mikey drives them to the venue. 

Gerard is licking his fingers when they pull up and Mikey sighs loudly as he turns off the car. “Just try to not be too zombie-like in there. There’s going to be a lot of bodies packed tight…” Mikey says, fiddling with his keys. 

And, well, Gerard hadn’t really thought about that. He hasn’t been in a public place since he died. Except for the grocery store, there was hardly anyone there besides stay at home mothers and retired people in the middle of the day during the week. But now, watching more and more people walk into the small bar that Frank’s flyer had led to, Gerard was starting to get a little nervous.    


“He’ll be fine,” Pete insists, “He ate. And we can leave early if we need to. It might give Gerard an air of mystery if he just disappears in the middle of the set.”

“Or I’ll seem like an asshole,” Gerard mutters. 

Mikey looks back at Gerard through the rearview mirror for a moment, like he’s trying to gauge if Gerard could handle this. It was eerily similar to the look that Mikey had given him over glass coffee tables as lines got broken up between them. 

But Gerard blinks and the coffee table is gone and Mikey is getting out of the car. Pete hesitates, looking back at Gerard and giving him a reassuring smile before getting out as well before opening Gerard’s door for him. Mikey reaches in and takes Gerard’s hand and pulls him out, because he knows that when Gerard gets too much in his head, he forgets that he has a whole body that he needs to move. 

It gets better and worse once they actually get inside. Mikey stays glued to his side and sends Pete to get them sodas. It’s probably a better situation, him being dead--zombie, whatever, than if he had to try and be in a bar as a recovering alcoholic. At least he’s not even really tempted by the bar knowing he couldn’t get drunk even if he tried. He wonders if it’s an issue for Mikey, if that’s why he and Pete are drinking sodas with him too. Knowing Mikey, he’s just being over protective. Which he appreciates because Gerard still feels vulnerable, like all his skin has been peeled off and he’s just a beating pulse on the grimy bar floor. 

But then he sees Frank up on stage, and its better than any fantasy he’s had. He’s so...alive. Just a bundle of energy bouncing from one side of the stage to the other, then running back to the mic like he forgot that he’s supposed to be singing. Gerard’s heard better singers, but Frank pours his whole body into his voice, he sings like it’s painful and pleasurable at the same time. His face twists up in the same expression that Gerard got a peek of from the car floor, and the long fingers wrapped around the neck of the guitar makes Gerard think of other places his hand has been wrapped around. 

“Jesus,” Mikey whispers, “Keep it in your pants.”

Gerard tears his eyes away from the stage to see Mikey giving him a smirk and Pete wiggling his eyebrows at him. Gerard feels himself blush and smile, but he tries to hide it by drinking his soda and shrugs, “I don’t know what you mean.”

They watch the rest of the set along the wall, Gerard doesn’t trust himself in the pit with all the bodies pressed together. He was never really a pit kind of guy anyway, preferring to stay to the outskirts so that he could make it to the bar easier. Mikey always liked to people watch against the wall, but Pete’s definitely a pit kind of guy. Mikey raises an eyebrow at him and that’s all Pete needs to jump in. 

Gerard watches as Frank finishes out the set and for a moment he wonders if Frank is one of those douchey guys who jumps off the stage at the end of the set, but he just chucks his water bottle into the pit then walks off with a grin. At first, Gerard had been sure that Frank hadn’t even seen Gerard, but Frank comes out from the green room without his guitar and heads straight to where Gerard is standing. 

“Wanna grab a cigarette with me?” He asks, his voice raspy from the set and Gerard imagines him sounding like that, only on his knees with red, abused lips. 

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes, wincing when Mikey elbows him in the ribs. He doesn’t take his eyes off Frank, just stares as he flicks his tongue out to his lip ring, “This is my brother, Mikey.”

Frank doesn’t look at Mikey either and smirks, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Mikey deadpans, then walks off to go look for Pete. 

Frank winks at Gerard and heads outside, not looking back to see if Gerard is following him. 

Of course he does, walking off the side of the venue into the alley so that they’re away from the other smokers. Gerard half expects to sink down to his knees, but Frank must have been serious about the cigarette, because he lights one between his lips. 

Gerard gets one out for himself and leans in for Frank to light his, feeling the tension between their gaze over the lighter burn brighter than the cherry at the end of Frank’s cigarette. He leans back and blows smoke out the corner of his mouth, a quirk that Ray makes fun of the Way brothers for. 

“How’d you like the set?” Frank asks. 

Gerard flicks ash and breaks his eye contact with Frank, opting to stare at his shoes instead. “You guys were good.”

“Anyone tell you that you’re a shit liar?” Frank chuckles. 

Gerard shrugs sheepishly and smiles up at him, looking through his eyelashes to see that Frank isn’t pissed. He looks more impressed if anything. “You were good,” and he doesn’t even recognize his own voice when he says that, it sounds too low and like it only belongs in between sheets. 

“Motherfuck,” Frank huffs and reaches out to grab Gerard’s shirt and pull him against him. Frank licks Gerard’s mouth and Gerard thinks he should be grossed out, but he just opens up for him like Frank’s found some invisible “on” switch. 

Their cigarettes burn down as Gerard pushes Frank back against the brick building and tries to keep up with Frank’s bruising force. The end of Frank’s cigarette catches Gerard’s bare knee poking out of his torn jeans as it falls to the cement and Frank tangles his fingers into Gerard’s greasy hair. 

“Come home with me,” Frank whispers, nipping at Gerard’s bottom lip. 

And Gerard wants to, God, does he want to. He’s suddenly picturing what Frank would look like stretched out against a mattress. How his tattoos would pop against white sheets, how their limbs would look tangled together in a mess of ink and pale skin. 

But the hunger slithers in his stomach, waking back up under the heat pulsing through Gerard’s skin. And for a moment he had forgotten who he was,  _ what _ he was. 

“I can’t,” Gerard whispers.

And Frank seems to take that as a challenge, turning them so that Gerard is pressed against the bricks instead. Frank kisses sloppily, leaving a wet trail down to his clavicle and he sucks  _ hard _ as his hand shoves it’s way down Gerard’s embarrassingly tight pants. “Come home with me.”

“I ca-an’t,” he whimpers as Frank’s hand cups him through his boxer briefs. 

Frank’s lips twist into a smirk. “Going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”

Something like that. 

“It’s one in the morning,” Gerard groans at the friction that Frank is creating with his devilish hand.

His other hand wraps around the back of Gerard’s neck and he presses his thumb against the restored pulse point in his neck. “Curfew?”

Gerard drops his forgotten cigarette and grips Frank’s hips despite his earlier protests. “I’m twenty-five.”

Frank removes his hand from Gerard's pants and smiles at Gerard’s whine, rubbing soothingly at the back of Gerard’s neck with the hand that’s still wrapped there. “So,” he starts softly, “You’re not Cinderella, you’re old enough to not have a curfew--which I should have probably asked before I let you suck my dick--”

“--Fuck off,” Gerard laughs. 

“I’m  _ trying _ ,” Frank grins, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of Gerard’s mouth and for some reason it feels more searing than when he had licked him, “Playing hard to get? Because, baby, you’re playing the game all wrong if that’s the case.”

Gerard tries to justify following Frank back to his place. Tries to talk the logical part of himself into it by promising they won’t spend the night, that they’ll let Frank do so many deliciously dirty things to him and then they’ll hurry back home like a good zombie. But every scenario that Gerard thinks though ends with him devouring Frank--and not in the sexy way. 

“Another night?” Gerard bargains. 

Frank brings both hands to cup Gerard’s face and kisses him, slow, and not fair at all because Gerard feels like he’s just going to swoon in Frank’s arms like in some Harlequin Romance novel. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Frank says, taking a step back. 

Gerard shoves his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know some fanfics you all would recommend (I read most all bandom fics), my to-read later list is getting short lately. I've been reading [Inked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324949/chapters/58646779) by [pyrchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrchance/pseuds/pyrchance), which is is a really cool witchy fic with a fun premise and hilariously awkward Frank. I've also been reading [Playing with Matches](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117217/chapters/58060585) by [kristinlizz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristinnlizz/pseuds/kristinnlizz) which is a Bert/Gerard fic, and I'm not a huge reader of that ship, but this fic is so deliciously angsty that I can't stop reading it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments on the last chapter, you all make my day.

After the relentless teasing about how in love with Frank he is, Mikey crawls into Gerard’s bed and they watch _Jennifer’s Body_ while passing a pint of Rocky Road back and forth. 

“How would they remake this if it was a gay guy playing Jennifer?” Gerard muses. 

Mikey snorts. “Well I doubt his name would be Jennifer.”

Gerard sucks the ice cream off his spoon and ponders about it, “No, I mean, would he still eat guys? Or does that sorta defeat the whole feminist message?”

“I don’t think the feminist message was about eating boys.”

“No,” Gerard says, digging out more ice cream, “It was. It was like...she was only pretty after she ate boys. There’s a message there.”

“Yeah, like demons rejuvenate after feeding off human flesh,” Mikey drawls. 

“No, Mikes,” Gerard huffs, “It’s like a sexist thing. The guys only wanted her because she was beautiful or whatever, so it’s like poetic justice that she only stayed beautiful after she killed them.”

“That goth kid asked her out when she was ugly though, “Mikey points out. 

Gerard frowns, “Well, he probably was attracted to her because she looked dead. Goth kids like that.”

Mikey snorts. “Is that why Frank likes you, because you look dead?”

Gerard dips his finger in the ice cream and wipes it on his nose, laughing a little when Mikey winces and mutters, “Grow up.”

“Frank is punk, not goth,” Gerard says, then frowns down at the ice cream, “I don’t know why he likes me.”

Mikey flicks ice cream at Gerard’s face, “None of that.”

“Mikey, gross,” he mutters, whipping his face with the sleeve of the hoodie he’s wearing, feeling a little smug that it’s Mikey’s. 

After Mikey falls asleep during _Heathers_ , Gerard throws the ice cream container away and sits at his desk so that Mikey can stretch out on the bed--it’s not like Gerard’s going to use it. Gerard pulls out his comic that he’s working on. He’s working on the sequel, where the boyfriend has to kill a thousand evil men to save his girlfriend out of Hell. The way he’s working it though is almost like a rock opera, there’s this band that’s the narrator, explaining what’s going on with the demolition lovers--and if the band looks a little like people he knows, well, he’s not going to tell anyone. But he’s shading the bassist who looks oddly similar to Mikey and he just starts to get choked up. 

Because nights like these, nights where they talk about movies and boys are going to come to an end eventually. And well, yeah, that probably would have happened anyway, but it’s different now that Gerard is a zombie. Mikey is going to grow out of Gerard. He’s going to move out of Elena’s house, probably with Pete, and Gerard is going to be alone to walk this hollow house by himself. And even if Mikey comes over, because Gerard knows that Mikey will try to come over all the time to try to prove to Gerard that nothing will change, except after awhile the visits will grow more infrequent, he’ll grow out of sitting around watching teen horror movies or listening to Gerard’s ideas for his next comic. He’ll move on to wanting to get married and have kids. He’ll be more interested in whatever career he finally decides on and backyard barbeques with his other friends that have careers and kids--things that Gerard will never have. And then Mikey will grow old, and Mikey will die. 

Sometimes it freaks him out when he looks at Mikey.

Like now, laying in his bed, Mikey’s mused hair hanging in his eyes and the way he’s clutching the pillow in his hand makes him look like a child. Mikey’s in a weird place in life right now. Gerard remembers being in his early twenties and waking up thinking he should be getting ready to go catch the bus to school. It’s jarring to be in that middle ground of being a child and an adult. Gerard didn’t handle it very well, he took to trying to be blacked out for most of it. But Mikey, well, Mikey has always been stronger than him--even though he looks so fragile. Gerard forgets sometimes how small he really is until he looks at him long enough and sees that shy little kid with scraped knees. 

There was a period of time where Mikey followed Gerard everywhere and copied everything he did. Gerard liked Star Wars, so Mikey liked Star Wars. Gerard listened to cassettes of Bowie and Blur, so Mikey started stealing them so he could listen too. Gerard stayed up watching _Evil Dead_ and _Slumber Party Massacre_ , so Mikey sat right next to him to watch them too. 

But then somewhere around high school, it was like Mikey started to see right through Gerard. He wasn’t the cool older brother that let him sneak into _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ screenings at midnight, he was the quiet loser in high school that hid in the alley way with cigarettes instead of friends. Mikey had lost weight and the shyness he had carried throughout childhood. He didn’t need to follow Gerard around anymore because he had his own friends. Friends that would hop on the train with Mikey and follow their favorite bands to nearby cities. Who got Mikey into all the shows he wasn’t old enough to attend. Who got him into playing the bass and becoming someone to know in the scene. 

It would have been easy to feel betrayed by Mikey, to be angry that he was leaving Gerard behind to be forgotten in alleys and basements. But, that was the part that hurt, Mikey never forgot Gerard. Because somehow, despite all his friends and everyone who knew his name, Mikey’s favorite person was still Gerard. 

Gerard comes over and kneels in front of the bed, brushing the hair out of Mikey’s face. It’d be nice to believe he wouldn’t leave him behind this time, but looking at Mikey’s childish face, Gerard knows that it’ll age and he’ll live. 

And Gerard will still be dead in this house. 

*

“I have Sundays off,” Frank says as he wraps up steaks for Gerard. 

“Oh.” 

Frank hands Gerard the packages and smirks, eyes glittering with mischief. “You know,” he muses as Gerard sets the meat in his shopping basket, “This is the part where you ask me out.”

“Oh.”

Frank’s smirk twists into a grin, the kind that he’s been giving Gerard a lot recently. Gerard had half expected Frank to be pushy after the show, but he didn’t say anything as Gerard came into the grocery store every day. And for a moment Gerard wondered if maybe he had lost interest in him, but he always smiled at him like he was in on a shared joke or brushed his fingers against Gerard’s wrists as he took his order from Frank.

“I’ve been sorta waiting for you to ask me out all week,” Frank continues, “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s just because you’re adorably shy and not because you’re not interested.”

Gerard’s face heats and he looks down at his shoes. “I’m interested,” he says in a small voice. 

“Great,” Frank says brightly, holding out Gerard’s receipt.

Gerard looks up and takes the receipt hesitantly, waiting for Frank to say something else, but he just winks and then turns his back to work on something on the other side of the counter. 

Huh.

Gerard hesitates, waiting to see if Frank will turn around and say something snarky or toy with his lip ring with his tongue the way that makes Gerard want to melt. 

But he doesn’t.

So Gerard leaves and thinks about how strange that interaction was the whole drive back home. It’s not until he’s unloading his shopping bag that he sees ink written on the back of the receipt. 

**Still waiting pretty boy**

**Call me.**

And there’s digits scribbled underneath and Gerard lets himself smile like an idiot since he’s the only one in the house. He fishes out his cell phone but frowns when he realizes it’s dead, so he plugs it in and tries to distract himself with lunch. 

When he was in middle school, he had his first crush. Her name was Madison and Gerard loved that she smelled like strawberries and read Stephen King. It’s that same sort of excitement as he waits for his phone to charge, the same feeling he had when he was thirteen and waiting in the kitchen for the house phone to ring.

But then when his phone is charged, he realizes he can’t really call him yet since he’s still probably at work, so he sighs dramatically and plops down on the couch with Mikey’s pickle chips and watches reruns of _The Golden Girls_. 

That’s how Mikey finds him, sprawled on his back with chip crumbs on his chest. “Dude,” Mikey says, slamming the door, “Did you eat all my pickle chips again?”

Gerard winces and looks down at the empty bag crumpled up on the floor. “It’s not like I won’t be back at the grocery store tomorrow.”

“Not the point,” Mikey huffs, sitting on the smaller couch adjacent to him. 

Gerard peers at him. “Are you alright?”

“Pete and I kinda got into it,” Mikey says, shrugging like he doesn’t really care, but Gerard sees the hardness in his eyes. 

“He’ll be back,” Gerard says. 

“Shut up,” Mikey sighs, laying back to watch the television, “But now I can’t drown my sorrows in pickle chips.”

Gerard frowns. “There’s Pop Tarts?”

“I guess that’ll do,” he mutters. 

Mikey pulls himself off the couch and goes into the kitchen and after some rustling returns with a box of chocolate Pop Tarts. And the receipt that Frank had given him. 

“What’s this?” Mikey asks with a smirk. 

Gerard rolls his eyes, “Just eat your Pop Tarts.”

Mikey shakes his head and pounces onto Gerard’s couch, giving him only a second to move his legs before they could be impaled by Mikey’s bony knees. “No, I think this is just the thing to cheer me up. Did you call him yet?”

“I think he’s still at work, Mikes.”

“You don’t know his schedule yet?”

“I’ve only known him for a few weeks.”

“But you’ve blown him in his car.”

“Since when has that meant anything to you?”

* 

Despite all of Mikey’s huffs and puffs, Gerard doesn’t actually end up calling Frank until after midnight. And then as the dial tone rings and rings, Gerard panics about calling him so late and is about to hang up before, “About time.”

“I didn’t know when you got off work,” Gerard offers lamely. 

Frank snorts, “Yeah, well the store isn’t even open this late.”

“Um…” Gerard mumbles, pacing around his room. 

Frank laughs again, soft and sounding like he’s laying in bed. Gerard closes his eyes and pictures him laying next to him, ideally naked. 

“So…” Frank trails off with and influx like he’s asking a question. 

Oh, right. 

“Do you want to go out with me?” Gerard rushes out, feeling his face turn hot and clammy. 

“Yeah,” Frank chuckles, “What did you have in mind?”

Which Gerard hadn’t even thought about so he just says, “um, it’s a surprise?”

“Is it? You don’t sound so sure.”

“No, it’s a surprise,” he says more evenly, “You’ll be surprised.”

“Going to blow my socks off?” Frank purrs into the phone, making Gerard’s toes curl.

“Something like that,” Gerard says a little breathy. 

Frank laughs then steers the conversation towards things to get Gerard out of his head. Gerard is a little blown away that Frank’s such a master at Gerard already, that he knows how to handle him so easily and it would make Gerard feel predictable if he didn’t already live with the fact that Gerard was really fucking difficult. Like a fucking mess. 

“Everyone has a sad story,” Frank offers softly sometime around three in the morning, “It doesn’t mean you’re not special, but it doesn’t mean you’re alone either.”

“Feels like it,” Gerard mumbles, shading in the drawing of a bat he was working on while they talked, “I know it sounds juvenile.”

“It does,” Frank agrees gently, “I still feel like a sulky teenager sometimes.”

“That’s because that was like, what...year ago?”

“Fuck you,” Frank snorts, “I’m twenty-three.”

Gerard hums. It seems like there’s five years between each year of your twenties. 

“I guess,” Frank says, causing Gerard to jump--he hadn’t realized he was thinking out loud. 

“My little brother is twenty-two and it feels like he’s worlds away from where I am,” Gerard says softly. 

“Age is a construct,” Frank says with an edge to it, like he’s trying to be nonchalant but it’s coming out all wrong. Like he wants to be careless and all punk rock like he is on stage, but on the phone at three in the morning he’s allowing himself to slip from that facade. 

But he guesses Frank is right in a way. Gerard will always be stuck in this twenty-five year old body, but his mind won’t be twenty-five. And he wonders if his mind is twenty-five anyway.

Frank changes the subject by asking what Hogwarts house Gerard thinks he is and that leads them into a discussion about how much they love Harry Potter until four in the morning, but then they talk about all the things wrong with it until Frank has to start getting ready for work. 

“I’m sorry I kept you up all night,” Gerard whispers as he hears Frank turn the shower on in the background. 

“Yeah, the next time you do, there better be orgasms involved.”

*

Sunday comes by quicker than Gerard would have liked because he still doesn’t have an idea on how to impress Frank on their date. He spent all day moping around the house while Mikey was out trying to forget Pete, which Gerard guesses didn’t really work out all that well since he ran into an ass naked Pete Wentz standing in the middle of his kitchen drinking orange juice from the carton. 

“Hey man,” Pete said casually. 

Gerard kept his eyes on Pete’s face. “Um, hi. Guess you and Mikey worked things out?”

Pete grinned. “Your brother needs to work on expressing his emotions.”

Gerard didn’t really know what to say to that so he just shrugged, then, because he was desperate, he asked, “Do you have any good date ideas?”

Pete beamed at him. “Good for you, Gee,” then he took another swig from the carton and said, “Just show him what you like to do. Something personal. Don’t try to impress him or it won’t work.”

Which is how Gerard ends up standing outside Cosmos Comics with his hands in his pockets so they’ll stop shaking. Cosmos is on a strip of little shops that Gerard really likes to visit when he gets the chance. It’s really the only place he goes when he leaves the house, well, that’s not the grocery store. There’s also a coffee shop, some antique stores that Gerard likes to sort through when he’s working on mix media projects, a record store, an old fashioned soda shop, a tattoo parlor, and various small restaurants. 

When Frank shows up he’s in ripped jeans and a leather jacket that looks worn enough to be authentic and not like he’s trying too hard to be punk. He’s also got these fingerless skeleton gloves which Gerard decides are kitschy enough for him to like them. 

“Hey,” Frank grins, pulling out the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear and sticking it between his lips and lighting it. 

And Gerard is enough of an addict that, even though he’s been chain smoking while he waited for Frank to show up, seeing Frank smoke makes him want to smoke. 

“I’ve been here before I think,” Frank says, peering up at the sign Gerard is standing under, “Like when I was in middle school.”

Gerard cringes and starts to rethink his plan, but he just lights his smoke and wills his feet to stay grounded. “So you’re not big into comics?”

Frank shrugs. “I guess I never gave them a chance really. I’m not much of a reader. There’s like only a handful of books I really like.”

“Like?”

“ _Catcher and the Rye_ ,” Frank says, flicking ash, then he grins, “What? Oh, I’m not supposed to like classics right? What did you think I’d have said?”

“Something like _Lipstick Traces_ ,” Gerard snorts.

“Honestly not a big Sid fan,” Frank says, “More Bouncing Souls.”

Gerard laughs, “You’re so Jersey it’s almost too much.”

“That’s right, fucker,” Frank grins, taking another drag, “I love this place.”

“Kinda have to,” Gerard agrees.

They smoke the rest of their cigarettes in silence, Frank shooting Gerard heavy leaded looks that make him blush and want to drag him to the nearest bed--or fuck, an alley at this point. And even though this is supposed to be Gerard’s date, Frank reaches out to take Gerard’s hand and leads them inside. 

It’s easy to let his defenses drop here. This had been his safe haven since he was eight years old. He takes Frank over to the newer releases and puts a few in Frank’s hands and tells them the premise and who’s doing the line art, what they’ve done before. He opens the pages and shows him that comics aren’t really meant to just be read, that they’re art as well. And he takes his time showing him the different types of panels, how you can make a character move across the page with just ink. He picks up a few more comics and shows him how the tone of a book can change just by the lettering or how colors matter for a scene to be portrayed a certain way. 

Through it all Frank just nods and let’s Gerard talk, only interrupting his flow to ask for clarification or for him to give him another example. Then he asks what Gerard’s favorite comics are and why, which makes Gerard smile and show him things like _The Invisibles_ \-- “Grant was on a lot of drugs for this one”, _The Watchmen_ \-- “Hey, I know that one,” Frank says, and _New Frontier_ \-- “Very sixties,” Frank notes as Gerard flips through it. 

And by the end he’s got a bag full of comics for Frank to take home and a few for him to bring home to Mikey as well. Then they go into the record store which has Frank bouncing off the walls. He lets Frank pull him through some of his favorite records and nods along like he’s learning something even though punk isn’t anything new to him, he just likes seeing Frank so worked up about something he’s passionate about. Gerard shows him some Brit Pop that he really likes and rolls his eyes at Frank’s wrinkled nose. 

“Look,” Gerard says, pulling out _Different Class_ and drags Frank to the listening booth. He sets up the record and leans back against the booth walls and smiles as Frank’s expression turns focused, like he’s trying to pay attention to every word of the lyrics. 

“See?” Gerard whispers, “They’re telling a story. Artists don’t write songs like this anymore.”

“Do you feel common?” Frank asks with a grin, crowding into Gerard’s space. 

“That’s the point of the song, isn't it?” Gerard breathes, fascinated at the way Frank’s hair moves under it, “There’s freedom in living life without meaning.”

Frank shakes his head, licking his lip ring then kissing Gerard, pressing himself flushed against Gerard’s buzzing body. Gerard doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being kissed like this. Like he was everything that Frank could ever need, like Frank had been starving until he tasted Gerard. He’s never felt this wanted before, he’s not sure what to think about it. Which is probably why he just shuts down and lets his body react to Frank’s lips and hands. 

Frank sucks on Gerard’s bottom lip before letting it slip between his lips and whispers, “You’re anything but common.”

Frank eventually lets them leave the listening booth, only after he’s convinced that Gerard has been thoroughly kissed-- “I like the way you look at me,” Frank breathed, “all bright eyed with your heavy lashes, like a fucking Disney princess.” They buy a couple records then Frank pulls them to the soda shop and begs Gerard to share an orange soda float with him. 

It’s not until they’re walking back to Frank’s car that Gerard realizes how comfortable he’s been with Frank all day, and he can’t remember the last time he felt sure of himself in front of anyone who wasn’t Mikey or Ray. They've been out for hours, the sun already setting and making the cool autumn air drop to a bone chilling cold. 

“You didn’t have to walk me back to my car,” Frank grins, taking his bags from Gerard and setting them in the backseat, which makes Gerard wince a little at how the comic books are so near to all the trash still sitting in the backseat. 

“I didn’t mind,” Gerard says shyly. 

Frank smirks and goes, “Uh huh,” then, “Sit inside for a minute and warm up. I’ll drive you to your car. Where’d you park?”

Gerard gets in and is about to answer Frank’s question when Frank is pulling him into his lap and attaching his lips to the pulse point on his neck. “Fuck,” he whimpers, rocking forward. 

Frank licks up the side of his neck and nibbles on his ear. “You know how hard it was not to fuck your mouth after you kept licking vanilla ice cream off your lips,” he breathes, unbuttoning Gerard’s jeans, “look like a goddamn porno, Gerard.”

Gerard moans and shoves Frank back against his seat, being spurred on by Frank’s wide eyes and daring grin, before pulling Frank’s leather jacket off then his shirt and attaching his lips to Frank’s clavicle, biting against the bone straining against Frank’s smooth skin. Frank tangles his hands in Gerard’s hair and lets Gerard get away with kissing down his chest and pressing his tongue flat against his pierced nipple, before tugging him away. 

Gerard’s mouth is already hanging open for Frank when he collides their lips again, and it’s a mess. It’s dirty and sloppy, full of teeth clinging together and tongues stroking the roof of their mouths. Gerard’s pulling Frank’s belt out of the loops of his jeans when he feels the slithering in his stomach make itself known. 

Not now, he begs, we’ll eat later. 

Gerard pushes the hunger down, tries to smother it with Frank’s kisses. Frank unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down his hips before pulling Gerard’s jeans down, then pulling him flushed against his body so that their cocks are pressed against each other. 

“Better hurry, baby, you’re giving anyone who walks by a pretty great view,” Frank murmurs before grinding his hips up against Gerard. 

Gerard knows that this is really fucking sleazy. Here he is again getting off in Frank’s trashy car only this time his jeans are around his thighs, leaving his ass in full view of anyone who looks through the windshield. But he can’t really find it in himself to care. All he cares about is the heat pulsing though him, making him burn down to nothing but instinct. Instinct to keep grinding against Frank, to keep creating that slick hot friction that’s making the most delicious breathy whines slip out of Frank’s throat. And, fuck, the instinct to attack his throat, to suck at the scorpion there, to lick up the sweat trickling down from his hairline, to moan against his ear as Frank wraps his hands around both their cocks, jacking them both in a shaky rhythm. 

But then the slither Gerard had ignored claws its way out of Gerard’s stomach and he feels the rumble of the growl in the back of his throat before he mouths against Frank’s neck, his mouth filling with saliva. Suddenly Frank doesn’t smell like tobacco and motor oil, but he smells the fresh coppery scent of his blood, the sweetness of his flesh and Gerard opens his mouth to take a bite when he’s drowning in waves of pleasure. 

He’s motionless, taunt and screaming silently as he hears Frank murmur “so good” against his temple. And then he’s being pressed down against Frank, his hand stroking Gerard’s hair gently as Gerard drifts back into the car. 

And the realization of what he almost did. 

“I have to go,” Gerard rushes, sitting up and peeling himself from the stickiness that’s between them. 

“Wha--”

But Gerard is opening Frank’s door and pulling up his jeans. 

And then he’s running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if Frank's nipples were ever pierced in real life, but they're pierced in this fic. You're welcome. 
> 
> Going to make a habit of dropping links to what I've been reading or rereading because I'm always looking for recs and I feel like we need to spread the love to all the fanfic writers out there. I'll stick to mostly MCR fics since I figure that's what most of you read.
> 
> [Pulses Can Drive You Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080138) is an amazing Mikey centric fic, and if you've read some of my other works then you know how much I love Mikey Way. This fic focuses on Mikey's relationship with his brother and his friendship with Pete, and there's a LOT of healing going on. Highly recommend if you're a big hurt/comfort fan like me. 
> 
> [Soon the Bells Will Start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867854) is another Mikey centric fic, um...hello, yes I have a Mikey fic obssession, but it's much more lighthearted than the previous one I mentioned. There's some more sweet Way Brother moments and even some protective Lyn-Z going on and a HILARIOUS misunderstanding. Also it's a Christmas fic but Mikey is pretty grumpy about it so that's always a good time.


	7. Chapter 7

Because the world hates him, when Gerard bolts into the house he runs into Ray Toro. 

Because it’s fucking Sunday. 

Ray frowns at him and puts an arm around him. “Gerard? Hey, are you alright? You don’t look too good.”

“Need to lay down,” Gerard mumbles, trying to break free of Ray’s hold. 

“Alright,” Ray says, tightening his grip and leading him to the couch. “Why don’t you lay down up here on the couch so I can keep an eye on you. Mikey and Pete should be back with the pizza any minute.”

Ray is too good of a friend. Sometimes Gerard wished that Ray was one of those guys who backed off and let Gerard self destruct the way he wanted to. He wanted to just crawl down to the basement and lay in his bed until he withered away or whatever it was that zombies did. But Ray wasn’t like that. He’d seen Gerard fall into his slumps so much that he knew exactly how to handle Gerard. Keeping him from isolating himself in the basement was a biggie. 

Gerard grumbles but curls up on the couch with his feet in Ray’s lap. Ray pulls off Gerard’s old converses and rubs at the bat patterned socks as he watches Cupcake Wars like there’s nothing wrong. Which Gerard appreciates, for now. He knows that Ray isn’t going to let Gerard stew with his angst for long, he always makes Gerard talk to him about whatever it is that’s bothering him. And at first Gerard really hates it, but he always feels better after talking to Ray. 

Because Ray never treated Gerard like he was a freak or something to pity. He would just nod along as Gerard explained that he couldn’t get out of bed or he’d tell Ray how he blacked out again and was pretty sure he slept with someone’s girlfriend. Ray had this way of making the things that plagued Gerard seem not as daunting. Gerard couldn’t get out of bed? Ray would say, “Well take an hour to gather yourself then we’ll walk down the street to the gas station for a pack of smokes and some soda.” Gerard slept with someone else’s girlfriend? “It wasn’t just your decision to have sex, don’t take all the blame.” 

When Gerard got really low, Ray would bring down the Nintendo 64 to Gerard’s room and set it up on his tv. He’d play Golden Eye while Gerard laid in bed just so Gerard wouldn’t feel alone, and then when he found the strength to sit up, Ray would pass him the controller and they’d play all night. 

He wonders if tonight is a N64 kind of night. 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“I sorta freaked out on Frank.”

Ray smiles, but doesn’t look away from the television. “What else is new?”

“I ran because I wanted to eat him.”

Ray bites his lip and turns to look at Gerard. “Oh.”

Gerard huffs and hugs one of those decorative throw pillows that Pete bought. “Yeah, oh.”

“But you didn’t, right?” Ray asks. 

Gerard just gives him a look and Ray laughs, “I just had to ask! I don’t know how this zombie thing works anymore than you do.”

“It’s awful. I’m going to be forever alone.”

“You’re so dramatic sometimes,” Ray sighs, wiggling Gerard’s big toe, “You probably just didn’t eat enough today.”

Which was true. Gerard had eaten that morning, but spending all day with Frank had sort of distracted Gerard from the fact that he was a monster who needed to constantly eat to stay human-like. 

“What am I supposed to say to him tomorrow?” Gerard grumbles.

“When you say freak out…”

“I mean I didn’t even have my pants back on before I ran out the car.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Ray just shrugs. “Well, if he likes you, he’ll look past your...quirks.”

Gerard sits up. “What am I supposed to do? Tell him I’m a zombie and that sometimes I’ll want to eat him if I didn’t eat enough red meat that day? He’s a fucking vegan.”

Ray presses his lips together to keep from laughing. And because it’s Ray, Gerard smiles a little. “Fuck you, Toro, this isn’t funny.”

Ray loses his battle with the giggles and starts laughing fully now. “He’s  _ vegan _ ?”

When Pete and Mikey come back with three boxes of pizza, Gerard raises an eyebrow, to which Mikey rolls his eyes. “You’ll eat a whole pizza to yourself, don’t give me that look.”

Gerard smiles shyly and it’s almost easy to believe that everything is going to be ok as he sits up on the couch and eats bacon pizza. Mikey is wrapped around Pete and Gerard would be grossed out if Mikey hadn’t been absolutely  _ glowing _ . Ray sets up Rock Band and it’s hilarious to watch Pete and Mikey argue over who’s going to play bass. Pete ends up giving in and plays the drums even though he’s god awful, but it makes them all laugh so hard that Gerard’s sides start hurting. 

It’s easy to get lost in Mikey’s smile and the way that Pete looks at him like he’s his whole world. Easy to watch Ray’s hair bounce around as he plays the guitar console like he’s really shredding up on stage. Easy to drown in the cacophony of their laughter. 

But it makes it harder to sit in his basement alone once Ray’s gone home and Mikey’s gone upstairs to go to bed with Pete. Because without the distraction, he’s sinking in the coldness of loneliness. His skin feels frozen without Frank’s hands on it. His lips are still tingling from the kisses from earlier, as if they're trying to prolong the feeling knowing that he might never feel Frank’s lip ring biting into his chapped lips again.

He half hoped that maybe Frank would have called him. And he’s a bit embarrassed by how many times he opened his phone to check for miss calls or text messages. 

But it’s starting to push into the next morning and he still hasn’t heard from Frank. Gerard listens to Mikey and Pete get ready to go to class, their feet shuffling above Gerard. He hears their playful laughter, hears the coffee maker go off, then hears the front door open and shut. 

And then he’s alone. 

*

“You have to get out of this room.”

Gerard’s stomach lurches when Mikey walks down the steps to his basement. Gerard gets off his bed and hunches down along the side of the bed. 

“You know I can still see you,” Mikey drawls, looking unimpressed. 

Gerard growls a warning, his fingers digging into the mattress to keep him there instead of pouncing onto Mikey and biting into him. 

Gerard had locked himself in his basement for about a week, the idea of facing Frank at the grocery store seeming too daunting. Mikey was not Ray, he thought the best way to help Gerard was to give him time to wallow before digging him out of the hole he had dug himself.

Pete’s hovering behind Mikey. “Yeah, no offense but you really stink.”

“You smell like you’re decaying,” Mikey bites out, “You need to get out of here and take a shower.”

Gerard growls again. 

“You can growl at me all you want,” Mikey says, sounding like their mom, “You’re getting into the shower.”

Gerard doesn’t move so Mikey stomps over to the bed and pulls Gerard up by his arm. For a skinny guy, Mikey is surprisingly strong. “ _ Shower _ .”

Gerard growls again and snaps at him, but Mikey still doesn’t seem phased by Gerard’s zombie temper tantrum. Mikey just drags Gerard past Pete, who is looking a little concerned, and up the stairs. Gerard tries to pull away and growl as menacing as possible but Mikey just says, “you can be all undead as you want, you’re still my brother and I can still kick your ass.”

Mikey gets Gerard into the shower then turns on the water. 

“Mikey!” Gerard yelps at the cold water, glaring at him, “I’m still dressed you asshole!”

“Your clothes stink too,” Mikey says with a shrug then walks out the room and shuts the door. 

Gerard sulks under the water, crossing his arms and huffing like he’s a toddler instead of an adult in his mid twenties. But glaring at the shower wall isn’t as fun if no one sees it, so he peels off his wet t-shirt and manages to get his wet jeans off with only dropping a few anguished f-bombs before taking a real shower so he can get Mikey off his back. 

He won’t admit it, but the shower is sort of helping. It always does when he gets like this, it’s like he can imagine the water washing away all his problems and taking them down the drain. But he knows that once he steps out of the porcelain tub, he’ll have to face the fact that he hasn’t eaten in a week and that Frank still hasn’t called. 

When he gets out, he sees that Mikey left a towel and some clothes on the sink for him. He gets changed without looking in the mirror, scared of what he’ll see if he does, then stalks downstairs with a grumpy expression. 

“You couldn’t have dried your hair?” Mikey asks, shrugging on a jacket. 

Gerard looks at him and then Pete, taking in the eyeliner and the perfectly straightened hair, “Are you going out?”

“ _ We’re _ going out, all of us,” he says, “You need to get up and do something.”

Pete nods. “Yeah, one of my friend’s band is playing, The Kill Pill.”

Gerard winces, “That’s a terrible name.”

Pete grins and nods. “Yeah, well, they didn’t have Mikey Way and his talent for naming bands.”

There’s not much room for argument. Mikey pulls Gerard out of the house and the next thing he knows, he’s flashing his ID to the door guy before walking into a bar that smells just as bad as the one that Frank played at. He wonders if he was just always too drunk before to realize how awful bars smelled. Or maybe it’s a human thing, he wonders as Mikey pushes a cup of water into his hands, the condensation dripping off the plastic cup and pooling onto his fingers. His body feels electrified almost, like he’s pulled taunt and ready to pounce. But at the same time, he’s fighting to reign it in and nod along to whatever story Pete is telling. He sees them laughing but he can’t really hear it. 

When he was younger, his family used to spend Memorial weekend at the lake that his mom used to go to when she was a kid. Gerard remembers loving the atmosphere when he was younger, loved the humid air that almost seemed smothering, dampening his hair against his eyes. He loved the cadence of the cicadas at night, the low hum of the porch light by the back door. And he liked the slimy lake water coating his legs as he cut through the murky green water, chasing Mikey on top of swimming pool noodles. 

There was one time where Gerard was six or seven and him and Mikey had to get out of the lake to go in for lunch. Gerard was slow at learning how to swim, he was a scared child, never fully trusting himself even back then. When he got out of the lake he helped Mikey out of his life jacket before taking his own off and laying them out on the deck to dry before running up the ramp to get back on land. That summer Mikey had been obsessed with carrying his He Man action figure around everywhere, and that day Mikey had let him slip out of his hands and they watched He Man fall into the lake. Mikey had started crying instantly, terrified that if he sunk down to the bottom, he’d never see him again. So, Gerard jumped in to get him without thinking that he didn’t have his life jacket on. 

That’s what being in this bar feels like. It feels like jumping into the water for Mikey even though he hadn’t learned to survive like this yet. He feels like the algae infested waters were clouding his eyes, that the thick water was crawling into his ears and he was slipping further down to the bottom of the lake.    


“I’m going to the restroom,” he feels his mouth say, then his heavy legs are carrying him into the grimy bathroom in the corner of the bar. He’s glad that the men’s bathroom almost never has a line outside of it. There’s no one inside, so he braces his hands on the sink and stares in the mirror. 

When he looks at his reflection, sees how papery his skin looks and how sunken in his eyes have gotten, he’s almost amazed at how Mikey hasn’t freaked out yet. Or maybe he has, Gerard’s too underwater to tell. He feels like he’s kicking rapidly, like he had that day, cupping his hands and moving his arms in the way his mom had been trying to show him. 

The door opens and Gerard catches the guy’s reflection in the mirror. He’s blonde, bleached past normality and his eyes are sort of dead, hollowed and lined with more kohl liner than necessary. The hunger in Gerard’s stomach doesn’t slither. Doesn’t crawl or claw. 

It pounces. 

Gerard had managed to bring himself to the surface all those years ago. He remembers hearing all the muffled yelling from under water, remembered seeing the light at the surface getting brighter and brighter until his face emerged from the lake and he took a deep breath, all his senses being sparked back to life. Felt the air on his face, saw the brightness of the sun, heard his brother yelling. 

No. 

That’s not his brother, the sound is coming from under his lips, he can feel the vibrations. Gerard sinks his teeth further in, growling and pressing the body into the sharpied wall of the bathroom. He feels blunt fingernails digging into his arms, but Gerard doesn’t let up and takes another bite, too ravenous to chew before swallowing. 

Gerard smiles, feeling lighter now that he’s being filled again. Laughing a little, finding humor in the fact that the yells erupting from under him are getting drowned by the music outside. That the voice is getting weak from blood loss. 

Then silence. 

And then it’s like the silence is louder in Gerard’s ears than anything else had been tonight. He feels shaken out of his trance and stumbles back against the sinks. His hands shake and come up to cover his mouth, but the red stickiness on his fingers makes him turn around and stick his hands under the running water. He rinses off his face and looks into the mirror. 

And he looks human again. 

Only he’s not. He’s a fucking monster. 

Gerard bolts from the bathroom, pushes the bodies off him that crowd him in from the music. He feels like he’s struggling to make it to the surface of the lake, struggling to dig himself out of his grave, as he tries to fight against the bodies to get back outside. To get back to the air where he can fucking breathe and live. 

He just wants to fucking live. 

The cold air hitting him is more blissful than any drug he’s ever taken. He takes in huge lungfuls of air, falling onto his knees and not caring that he’s drawing attention. 

“Gerard?”

Not him. Gerard curls in on himself, please not him. 

But then there’s that warm, steady hand that had grounded him in the grocery store all those weeks ago, settling on his back in the same way. “Gerard, hey, breathe, come on.”

He’s getting pulled up to his feet and sees his feet move across the pavement, before his back hits something solid and Frank’s face appears in front of him. He wishes that Frank looked like he had been up all night thinking about him, that he had been laying in bed all week just longing for Gerard, but he looks as beautiful as ever. 

Frank strokes his cheeks, “What did you take?”

Of course Frank would think he was on drugs. Gerard’s pretty sure he’s vibrating right now. From shock or fear maybe, he’s not sure how he’s really supposed to act after killing someone in the bathroom. 

He’s pretty sure that he’s not supposed to mutter, “I just killed someone,” though. 

Frank’s eyes widen a little, then he tilts Gerard’s chin up and searches his eyes, though Gerard doesn’t think his dilated pupils are going to give anything away. He’s sure Frank takes them as Gerard being high off something really fucked, because he puts his arm around him and pulls him into a hug. 

“Ok,” he whispers, “You’re going to be ok. You’ll come down and things will be fine again, ok? Just breathe, I’ve got you.”

Gerard doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s been sober for weeks. Since he’s risen from his grave as a zombie. Doesn’t tell him that he’s shaking from shock, not drugs. That there’s a man on the bathroom floor. That someone is about to find him any moment. 

“Can we get out of here?” Gerard asks in a tiny voice. 

Frank’s hold on his tightens. “Yeah, let me get you out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I like reading Christmas fics in July, sue me. [All I Want for Christmas is You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/187249) is one of my favorites.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the enthusiasm on the last chapter! 
> 
> I had a really shitty couple of days and wasn't sure if I would have the energy to write at all, but the comments on my last chapter got me back on my computer, and typing out this chapter reminded me how much I love living in these worlds and sharing them with you all. Thank you so much for creating a space for me to do that.

Frank’s apartment is a truthful reflection of him.

There’s posters, tapestries, and flyers from shows coating the walls. He’s got a dark couch pressed against the main wall with a coffee table coated in take out containers and beer cans. There’s a television that looks like it was dragged from a dumpster that has DVDs stacked on top of it. 

Frank guides Gerard to the couch and drapes the blanket that was tangled up on the couch around his shoulders. 

“I’m going to get you some water,” he says softly, “Just hang out here for a sec.”

Gerard just nods and watches him disappear into the kitchen. The blanket around him is so worn, it feels like it’s about to disintegrate, but it smells so much like Frank that Gerard can’t help but press it to his face and inhale. 

Which really doesn’t help his case in convincing Frank that he’s not on drugs, because that’s what Frank sees when he walks in. Gerard rubbing his blanket all over his face. 

He clears his throat and Gerard blushes as he reaches for the cup of water that Frank is extending. It’s a little orange plastic cup with pumpkins printed all over it, which makes Gerard smile and feel more at home. 

“You look like you’re coming down,” Frank says softly, “You’re not shaking as much.”

Gerard frowns and sips at his water, wondering how exactly one comes out as a zombie to their...not-quite-boyfriend. He wishes that Mikey was here, he always knew how to navigate awkward situations--oh shit, Mikey!

“Uh,” Gerard says, pulling out his phone, “I need to call my brother, he’s probably wondering where I am.”

Frank crosses his arms and gives him a look. “Did your brother give you something?”

“What? No!” Gerard says, “I’m not on drugs.”

“Gerard…”

“Look, I’ll explain everything, just...I need to call him. I know he’s freaking out right now,” he says, standing up to go outside to the balcony he sees off the kitchen. 

Frank doesn’t stop him, just plops on the couch and turns on the television. Gerard waits until he shuts the sliding door before he sends the call through and it doesn’t even ring twice before, “Jesus Fucking Christ, where are you?”

“At Franks.”

Silence. 

“Don’t be mad,” Gerard rushes out, wincing a bit. 

“I’m not mad,” Mikey mutters, then he can hear Pete saying something in a soothing tone, “No, why would I be mad? I just lost my zombie brother at a bar.”

“I’m so--”

“A bar which we’ve all been kicked out of because there was a dead body found in the bathroom.”

Gerard shudders and sits on the dirty lawn chair that’s sitting outside. “I didn’t mean to,” he whispers. 

“Fuck,” Mikey says back, quieter, then, “Is it wrong I was hoping it was just a serial killer or something?”

Gerard snorts a little, then winces, because this isn’t fucking funny. “Mikey, I--”

“I know, Gee,” he says gently, “I still love you, you know that right? You could do anything and you’d still be my brother. This...it doesn’t change anything. I know it should, and I know that makes us pretty fucked up, but…”

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes, because he hadn’t even considered that. He hadn’t let it fully sink in that he had _killed_ someone. That he ended someone’s life, someone who probably had friends and a family--who were probably just now getting the news that their loved one was dead. Because of Gerard. 

“Gerard, hey,” Mikey says, “Don’t think about it. We’ll figure it out, it’s ok.”

But it’s _not_ . Otherwise Mikey wouldn’t have had to say that he still loved him. Wouldn’t have to make sure Gerard knew that they were still good. Because what Gerard did, that was unforgivable. He was a fucking _monster_. He--

“Gerard, stop. Give me Frank’s address, I’ll come get you,” he says. 

Gerard shakes his head, then remembers that Mikey can’t see him and says, “I think I’m going to tell him.”

There’s another pause then, “yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Going to tell him what happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” Gerard says automatically, then sighs and lights a cigarette. This is such a fucking mess, but he should be honest with Frank and let him decide if he still wants anything to do with Gerard. 

“That’s pretty mature of you,” Mikey snorts. 

“Yeah, well, I have moments occasionally,” Gerard mumbles. 

“You like him a lot,” Mikey replies, and Gerard can hear the smile in his voice. 

There’s a tightness in his chest when Gerard answers, “Yeah.”

“I have my phone on full volume, call me if you need me.”

“Thanks,” he says in a tiny voice, wanting to take back everything he’s said and beg Mikey to come get him and take him home. Somewhere warm and familiar, where he can curl up with Mikey on the couch and watch shitty late night television.

“You’re going to be ok,” Mikey says softly, in that tone that he always uses when Gerard is spiraling out of control.

“Yeah,” Gerard says, “I know.”  
  
After he gets off the phone, he waits until he finishes another cigarette before heading back inside. Frank is slouched on the couch watching some sort of vacuum cleaner infomercial. “Is everything alright?”

Gerard nods. “I think so. But um, we should talk?”

Frank smirks up at him. And it really shouldn’t be fair. Frank shouldn’t look all sexy and dominating slouched on a crummy couch wearing a black shirt that is so worn the black is discolored. “You mean about how you ran out on me after we fucked in my car and I didn’t hear from you for a week?”

Gerard’s hands dampen with sweat and he looks down at Frank’s stained mustard yellow carpet. “Yeah.”

“You sure you want to talk? Words seem to be hard for you right now.”

“Shut up.”

“See? Not really the start of a good conversation.”

“Frank…”

“I’m just fucking with you,” Frank sighs, sitting up and patting the space next to him, “C’mere.”

Gerard doesn’t even hesitate, just walks over and sits next to Frank. And he wonders how far gone he really is to not even question Frank. To not think anything of it to do exactly what he says and go pliant as Frank cups Gerard’s face in his callused hands and press a kiss against his lips. It’s slow and intentional, all their usual passion non-existent in this drab living room. It’s as if Frank is unsure almost, or maybe he’s trying to convince Gerard or something. And for a moment, Gerard is winded by the fact that this is Frank being vulnerable. He’s not the cocky Frank leaning over the butcher counter. He’s not the sexy, confident Frank shoving his tongue down Gerard’s throat. He’s not even the smiley Frank babbling about punk rock albums. He’s just a scared, twenty-something who doesn’t know what he’s doing either. 

Frank rests his forehead against his and cups Gerard’s chin in his hand, brushing his thumb across his bottom lip. “Doesn’t feel like you’ve lost interest,” he murmurs, and Gerard wonders for a moment if Frank is talking to himself.

Before he can ask, Frank is kissing him again, hungrier than the previous kiss. Gerard can’t help it, he’s been touch starved all week, and he fists Frank’s shirt in his hands, pulling him closer. Frank makes an appreciative sound and slides his hands under Gerard, cupping his ass and lifting him so he’s in Frank’s lap. Which would seem like it would be a funny image since Gerard is clearly bigger than Frank, but try telling _Frank_ that. He has his hands everywhere, and Gerard wonders if somehow he’s grown five arms since the last time they’ve done this. Because every inch of Gerard’s skin feels like it’s been stroked awake, like all his nerves are rushing to the surface to get their taste of Frank. 

Frank stands up, picking Gerard up in the process and Gerard thinks there’s no way that he should be able to carry him across the room. But he does, and Gerard is busy pressing hot, needy kisses to Frank’s jaw to really give a fuck. 

But then he’s being laid out on a mattress, and it’s like someone threw a bucket of ice water on him. He sits up and tries to detach Frank’s hands from his jeans. “Wait.”

Frank pulls away, his lips coming away from Gerard’s neck with a loud suction noise. “What?” He breathes, his chest heaving, hair a mess, and lips red. Gerard wants to tell his conscious to shut the fuck up because they were about to get some much needed Frank attention, but his conscious is louder than his dick today and he says, “We need to talk first.”

“No silly,” Frank murmurs, starting to unbuckle his belt with heavy eyes dripping sex, “Talking comes after the sex. You know, preferably with a cigarette.”

“This isn’t exactly pillow talk,” Gerard whispers sadly, scooting down to the edge of the bed so he can sit properly. 

Frank gives him a measured look. “Oh, shit, this is serious. Ok,” he says, sitting next to him. He turns so he’s facing Gerard and crosses his legs, his belt still undone. 

“Um,” Gerard starts, not really sure how to go about this. _Look, sometimes I want to eat you and not in the sexy way...no...um, I committed suicide, but don’t worry I’m like totally over it and now I eat people...probably not...so, you’re really hot and all, but I’m not sure you should fuck a dead guy...omg, no._

“Gerard?” Frank says with a grin, but it’s a little shaky, “This isn’t the part where you tell me you have herpes right?”

Gerard snorts and shakes his head. “No, it’s a bit more complicated.”

Frank furrows his brow, but doesn’t say anything else. 

Just rip the band aid off, he thinks, then says, “I’m a zombie. Or I think? I don’t know really, see, I died right? And then Pete did this spell with my brother, and I crawled out of my grave and then I just started wanting to eat the neighbor’s dog, but I didn’t. But I did kill a guy,” Gerard says, then he winces and covers his mouth to stop the fucking word vomit coming out of his mouth. 

He waits for Frank to kick him out of his apartment. Or for him to think he’s on drugs again. Or maybe just laugh. Frank seems like the kind of guy to laugh in bad situations.

“Um, what?” Frank asks, not exactly meeting his eye. He’s frowning at the green and pink plaid comforter and picking at a loose thread. 

“I’m dead,” Gerard says, “Technically.”

Frank reaches out and Gerard jumps as he wraps his hand around Gerard’s wrist, pressing his thumb against his pulse point. “You have a heartbeat. You’re not dead,” he says, looking up at Gerard with hard eyes and his mouth in a thin line, “I know you’re into horror and shit, but come on, there’s a better way to let me down than--”

“No!” Gerard says, “I like you, Frank.” 

And he wants to just burrow under Frank’s ugly carpet and hide forever, because he sounds so fucking stupid right now. _I like you, Frank_ , like he’s fucking in the eighth grade. But when he chances a look at Frank, he’s smiling just a little, like he’s trying to hide it. “You do?”

Gerard blushes and shrugs. 

“No, don’t do that,” Frank says, letting go of Gerard’s wrist to grip his chin and turn him to look at Frank, “Don’t hide now. You’ve done enough of that.”

Gerard feels hot and cold at the same time, feverish under the intensity of Frank's gaze and repeats, "I like you."

Frank’s face twists into an expression that Gerard isn’t really sure how to decipher it, because if Gerard reads it the way he thinks he should, he’s fucking heartbroken for Frank. Because it looks like the same expression he sees in the mirror. It looks like Frank’s never heard those words before. Like he’s never had anyone blush for him, never had anyone say they liked him. Never thought he was _worth_ it. 

“Come here,” Gerard murmurs. 

And then Frank’s kissing him. 

And they’re laying out on the mattress. Gerard takes inventory of himself, of the hunger, and is delighted to note that he doesn’t feel any slither of hunger anywhere in his body. He feels like he’s lost control in all the best ways, not the scary zombie ways. Only in the ways that matter when you’re in bed with someone you’re falling head over heels for. 

Frank’s uncharacteristically soft and slow with Gerard this time. He sits up on his knees to pull at Gerard’s jeans, his eyes glued to Gerard’s face, measuring his face like he’s waiting for Gerard to take everything back. Frank waits until he has Gerard undressed before letting his eyes dance along his body. Gerard fights the urge to cover up, because this is different than getting handjobs in the car. He’s completely vulnerable under Frank’s gaze, stripped of his clothes and confessions. He’s laid bare as simply a man with everything and nothing to lose all at once. Because he’s not human, but he’s never felt as human as he does in this moment, the moment right before Frank’s kissed lips tilt up in a soft smile, almost too innocent and coy for someone as cocky as Frank.

Gerard’s surprised how sexy he finds that, Frank being stripped down just as far as Gerard. Not hiding behind the jokes and innuendos. Gerard reaches up to tug at Frank’s shirt, and the sassy smirk is back. Frank raises his eyebrow and crosses his arms, hooking his fingers around the hem then pulling off his shirt in a slow, teasing manner. Gerard swallows the lump forming in his throat as more ink is revealed the more his shirt lifts up. He wraps his legs around Frank and twists them so that he’s on top, grinning at himself when he notes the surprised, but pleased look on Frank’s face. Gerard licks at the birds tattooed on his hips, something he’s wanted to do since he first saw a peek of them. 

Frank groans and tilts his hips up against Gerard’s tongue. 

Gerard nods and finishes Frank’s earlier work of removing his belt, then he pulls his jeans down and bites his lip when he realizes that Frank isn’t wearing underwear, because of course he isn’t. 

“Come here and taste me, zombie boy,” Frank teases, but it comes out thick and dripping, making Gerard’s eyes roll back in his head as he makes his way up Frank’s chest to take his pierced nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the barbell over and over until Frank is withering under him. “Holy fuck,” he hisses. 

Gerard looks up at him and grins against his hardened nipple, then kisses his way over to the other to make sure it doesn’t feel left out. Frank lets Gerard have his way for a moment before flipping them back over and capturing Gerard’s misbehaving mouth with his. He licks his lips open then kisses him filthy, in the way he’s come to crave.

Frank’s hand drifts down Gerard’s stomach and he doesn’t even have the thread of thought to clench his stomach in, like if he sucked it in he could hide the extra pounds he hates. Frank doesn’t even seem to care, he strokes Gerard like he’s some prized possession, like he’s a damn magic lamp ready to give him all of his most wicked desires. 

He’s already painfully hard and leaking against his stomach when Frank finally makes some contact with his cock. Gerard throws his head back against the pillows and squeezes his eyes closed, trying to think about jello molds or grapefruit, something disgusting that will keep him from coming all over Frank’s talented fingers so soon. 

Speaking of fingers, Gerard moans around the fingers making their way into Gerard’s mouth. He opens his eyes and sees Frank staring at him with heavy lidded eyes, his other hand still working Gerard’s cock almost as an afterthought. “Get them wet for me,” Frank murmurs, and Gerard thinks that should be funny outside of a porno, but it works. God, does it work, and Gerard whines at how quickly his body is tensing up, angry that he’s about to come before he gets to find out why he’s coating Frank’s fingers with saliva. 

As if Frank knows what Gerard is thinking, he wraps his hand around the base of Gerard’s cock and squeezes with just enough pressure that Gerard’s breath gets caught in his throat. Frank pulls his fingers out of Gerard’s mouth, dripping spit onto his lips and chin. 

Gerard’s thighs are being spread apart by Frank’s knee and then he feels the slick fingers against his opening. “Ok?” Frank ask softly, holding Gerard’s gaze. And he really means it. Gerard can feel the fingers shaking against him with want, sees how much Frank is coming undone just from pushing Gerard’s body to the furthest edge of pleasure he thinks he’s ever been to. But he sees the composure settle on Frank’s face, the inclination that this is Gerard’s choice, will always be his choice, and that level of trust crumbles the last of Gerard’s resolve and he nods, “Please.”

Frank leans down and presses soft, soothing kisses as he presses the first finger in. It’s been awhile since Gerard had done this, and it takes him a moment to adjust to the feeling. Frank just kisses him through it before adding the second when he feels Gerard settle against the mattress. He tenses back up and Frank murmurs, “so good,” and brings his other hand up to stroke Gerard’s cheek, “you’re so perfect.” 

And Gerard would chalk it up to Frank just spewing anything under the smothering desire, but he can _feel_ it. He can feel that Frank truly is amazed by Gerard; however that may be. Gerard doesn’t understand it at all, but he just kisses Frank back, pouring all the emotion he’s feeling and hoping that Frank can tell what he’s trying to say without words. 

Frank’s fingers start moving inside of him, only stroking his prostate in lazy, almost accidental brushes, but Gerard knows better. He lets Frank bring him to the edge over and over, finally gritting out, “Frank, _please_ ,” when it gets to be too much. 

He hears rustling, his eyes closed and trying to concentrate. On what he’s not really sure. He feels like he’s floating already, like he’s already come and is drifting back down, but his body is still tense and begging for release. 

“Open your eyes,” Frank whispers, and Gerard’s eyes open, threatening to close again because it’s just too much to see Frank hovering above him with his small smile and dazed, soft eyes. Frank cradles Gerard’s cheek in his hand and kisses him softer than Gerard thinks he should be allowed to, given the frenzy their bodies are rushing towards, but Frank seems intent on slowing them down, like he’s savoring this. 

And then Frank is pressing in and Gerard’s eyes flutter but Frank strokes his cheek in the same gentle manor he had before. The stretch is almost too much, Gerard breathes through it and whimpers when Frank’s hips meet Gerard’s. Frank brushes his lips against Gerard’s, soft almost kisses just to ease him back down from wherever his body has drifted to. “Still with me?” Frank murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes, his body settling back into his bones. Frank kisses him, building that heat back into the pit of Gerard’s stomach. And then he’s rocking into him, slow, too controlled movements that makes Gerard go crazy with want. He needs the unhinged Frank he had in the car, he needs him to come out and wreck Gerard the way he craves. 

Frank keeps up the slow thrusts until Gerard claws at Frank’s shoulder and begs, “ _Frank_.”

And it’s like he’s hit a switch. Frank groans and wraps his hand around one of Gerard’s calves and folds his leg so that his thigh is pressed against his stomach. Gerard gasps at the new angle, then cries out when Frank moves up onto his knees and grips Gerard’s shoulder to get some leverage and really _fucks_ him. It’s fast and hard and there’s a part of him that thinks he’s going to break right under Frank. And a bigger part of him that doesn’t mind the thought of that at all. 

He knows he’s crying out, babbling incoherently, but he can’t differentiate the sounds building up in his ears like a sultry symphony. His dead heart pounding in his ears, the protests of the bed under Frank’s punishing pace, the duet of their moans and heavy breaths.

Frank reaches down to wrap his hand around Gerard’s cock, shifts so that he’s hitting his prostate on every thrust and Gerard is sure from his sore throat that he’s pleading for Frank to stop or never stop, everything seems like one full circle, that nothing ends or begins and that him and Frank are just existing in this moment. 

Until the coil in the pit of his stomach snaps and Gerard’s not floating, he’s soaring high up so fast he’s dizzy with it, vision going black or maybe his eyes are squeezed shut and his limbs lock up, his breath hangs onto his lips. And then he’s plummeting back down onto the bed and is too acutely aware of the way Frank is still thrusting into him, his hips erratic and he knows Frank is almost there, but he’s so fucking sensitive it’s like he’s being tossed back up and he grips onto Frank’s shoulders, anchoring him there so that he can see the way Frank’s back bows under the intensity of it all. So that he can feel the way Frank’s cock throbs inside him as he comes, and then catch him as he drops into Gerard’s arms. 

Gerard kisses the top of Frank’s head, stroking his wild tresses and smiling against them. He closes his eyes and lets the last few waves of pleasure rock through him like aftershocks, and he grins at the slight trembling he feels from Frank. He had never really been a cuddler, or really had the chance to be. He always tried to sneak out of beds before they could tell him to get out. But Frank just nuzzles against him. 

“Fuck.”

Gerard snorts, “Yeah.”

Frank lifts up and pulls out of Gerard, mumbling a “sorry” when Gerard wrinkles his nose and the odd feeling. He watches Frank tie off the condom and throw it off somewhere in the corner and Gerard thinks _gross_ then, _when did he put on a condom?_ But decides that neither of them really matter as Frank lays back down on the side of Gerard, propping his head up on his hand. 

“So,” he says slowly, “Zombie?”

“That’s the idea,” Gerard says cautiously. 

“You don’t fuck like you're dead,” Frank says with a wicked grin. 

“Do you fuck a lot of dead bodies?” Gerard asks and then howls with laughter at Frank’s horror stricken face. 

“If I had the energy, I’d kick you right now,” Frank says, then laughs a little at himself, “Wait, that wasn’t necrophilia right? Like, um…”

“Dude, no,” Gerard says, “I have a beating heart I’m...alive sorta? Like undead? I don’t think that counts.”

Frank snorts. “You’re just trying to make sense of all of this.”

“You have no idea.”

Frank leans over to the nightstand and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one to Gerard’s lips. He smiles and takes it, saying, “Thank you” once Frank lights it. Frank lights his own, takes a drag then says, “So tell me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright this recommendation is a little silly, but go with it, ok? Trust me, it's really fucking good. It's [Shut Up and Drive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935343/chapters/34602242) and it's one of my favorites. It's includes almost everyone in bandom, so there's a little something for everyone. It's a Fast and Furious AU where Gerard races the Trans Am and Mikey is fucking Mikey and always gets himself into trouble. It's told through Pete's point of view and he's so fucking in love with Mikey it's not even funny, and then there's some drama with Patrick. Seriously, it's amazing and I'm not doing a very good job at explaining it. Just read it then come bug me on my [tumblr](https://throwupsparkles.tumblr.com/) to tell me what you thought. Or...you know just to chat about zombies ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your kinds words in the comments last chapter--you all are amazing. I'm doing better now, so I really appreciate all the well wishes. I actually have some good news, I'm going back to school this fall to get my masters so I can be a real librarian instead of just a clerk which will fulfill a dream of mine that I've had ever since I watched The Mummy (1999) and saw Evelyn use her badass librarian skills to defeat the bad guy.

This has got to be the weirdest hookup of Gerard’s life. Or, maybe it’s not really a hookup if they’re dating. If they’re dating. Gerard thinks maybe they should talk about that after he’s answered all of Frank’s zombie questions, but Frank doesn’t really seem like the kind of guy who puts labels on things and Gerard wonders if people even still do that. Maybe he’s just been out of the dating game for...well, his whole life really. Mikey doesn’t call Pete his boyfriend really but Pete is at their house every fucking day. Maybe he should ask Pete what to do, the kid gave him really good advice last time and…

“Are you listening to me?” Frank giggles, pouring a bowl of cereal. They’re standing in Frank’s small kitchen which doesn’t look like it’s been mopped since the seventies, not that Gerard is a cleaning expert but...he’s pretty sure Mikey mops their kitchen every month or so at least. Maybe Gerard should start helping out more around the house. 

“Gerard?”

Gerard blinks and then blushes when Frank starts laughing again. He slides Gerard a bowl of cereal and he takes a bite so he doesn’t have to say anything stupid. 

“You’re pretty spacey after sex,” Frank says fondly, going to sit at the kitchen table. 

Gerard sits across from him and takes another bite, noticing that he’s really not all that hungry. Which is really fucking weird because he’s been hungry ever since he drug himself out of that grave. He frowns, well, he did eat that guy in the bathroom...well, not all of him--not that that makes it any better!

They still really haven’t talked about Gerard being a zombie. Frank had decided that he needed a sugary snack before diving into the fact that the guy he’s sleeping with is technically dead. Gerard just doesn’t really know where to start, what is there really to explain?

“You could start with you dying,” Frank suggests, and Gerard frowns because he hadn’t realized he was talking to himself again. 

“Um,” Gerard starts. 

Frank smiles softly. “You talk to yourself when you’re nervous.”

“Or when I’m writing,” Gerard adds and Frank’s smile widens. 

“Writing?”

“I’m writing a comic right now,” Gerard explains and goes into the basic story line of the Bonnie and Clyde type characters he’s written and how he’s already developing the next part where the boyfriend has to go kill a thousand evil men to save his girl from Hell. 

And Frank must for the CIA or something because he’s got Gerard all loose talking about his comics when he gestures to the full cereal bowl and says, “So do you only eat meat then?”

Gerard grimaces. “Not exactly.”

Frank slurps the rest of his cereal before taking Gerard's. “Go on.”

“I can eat whatever I want,” he says, “But things like cereal don’t really fill me up like meat does.”

“That’s why you come to the grocery store so much. I thought it was just to see me,” Frank grins. 

Gerard blushes. “Well, it sorta is half and half.”

“Aw, you say the sweetest things,” he say, then frowns, “Wait, you’re there every day. Do you really eat that much meat a day?”

“Uh, yeah,” Gerard says, wishing he had his cereal back so he could do something with his hands. He lights a cigarette instead, “I have a big appetite. And, some of it is preventative. I don’t want to get hungry then be around people.”

“Is that why you ran the other day?”

Gerard stiffens and takes a drag from his cigarette before nodding. 

Frank drops his spoon in the bowl and leans back. “Fuck,” he says in disbelief and Gerard stares at him, trying to see if it’s finally sinking in. He’s frowning a little and his eyes are wide and far away, like he’s recounting the fact that he could have died a week ago. “You weren’t being a dick, you were just scared you were going to hurt me?”

Gerard nods again, eyebrows pinched. “Yeah, I hadn’t eaten much that day and then...well, we were so _close_.”

Frank snorts, all traces of discomfort erased from his face. “So what? I need to keep a stash of meatballs next to the condoms?”

Gerard chokes on his cigarette and hunches over, trying to tell his body that dying in Frank’s kitchen would be very rude. Well, dying again he supposes. 

Frank cackles with laughter and lights a cigarette of his own. “I’m kidding. Well sort of, you just need to remember to eat and then you’re good?”

Gerard flicks ash into the ashtray on the table. “Yeah, um, I get really…”

“Zombie like?”

“Yeah.”

There’s an awkward beat of silence before Frank takes a drag and asks, “Did you really kill someone tonight?”

Gerard doesn’t look at him and nods. 

“Fuck.”

And it just sort of hits Gerard like a fucking train then. He hadn’t really had the time to sit with it yet. He had ran out of the bathroom then was taken into Frank's care and he had been worried about how to handle Mikey and Frank that he didn’t really let it digest that he killed someone. And he hadn’t thought about it in the way that _he_ killed someone. He was sad that that guy was dead, yeah, but he still separated it from himself. Like he just read on the news that someone died and he felt sad for them and their family. But it was entirely different to think that Gerard had carried out the act of injuring someone to the point of death. He never even crushed a spider in his life! He was the kind of guy that would scoop them up and carry them outside. And now he had--Gerard chokes on a sob and then suddenly he’s got a lap full of Frank. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, wiping the tears that Gerard didn’t know he had shed, “Shh, none of that.”

Gerard tries to sniffle and get himself together but he just squeezes his eyes and starts to ugly cry. The kind that he typically tries to hide in the shower where no one can see him and the water can erase any signs of distress. Frank just pulls his face into the crook of his neck, and it’s such a trusting move. It says so much about Frank that he would put Gerard’s mouth against his neck after what he’s just told him. 

But he doesn’t flinch and he doesn’t act like he’s scared of Gerard at all. He strokes his hair and kisses his shoulder. Gerard tries to hang onto Frank’s words, his whispers of “you’re going to be ok” and “you’re safe now” and “I’ve got you”. 

Gerard takes in a shuddering breath and sits up, wiping at his drenched cheeks. He’s aware that there’s snot trickling down to his upper lip, but Frank just wipes it with his fingers and smiles. “You’re fine as long as you eat, right?” He asks. 

Gerard nods and sniffles. 

“Well it’s a good thing your boyfriend works at the butcher counter,” he says, wiping the last of Gerard’s tears. Frank must not see Gerard’s wide eyes, or he’s very good at pretending that it doesn’t phase him. “I’ll take care of you.”

*

Frank takes Gerard home the next morning on his way into work. 

After Frank had gotten Gerard to stop crying, he led him back into the bedroom and Gerard had been expecting round two or something, but Frank just wrapped his limbs around him and fell asleep. Gerard hadn’t been able to sleep of course, but it was probably the most peaceful night he’s had in a long time. He tried not to be a creep and watch Frank sleep, but he couldn’t help it. He made the cutest little annoyed sounds, like he was telling someone off in a dream or something. His eyebrows furrowed and rose like he was having a full on conversation and his arms tightened around Gerard every so often. 

He never let him go. 

“I gotta go,” Frank whispers, kissing him again. 

“So go,” Gerard counters, kissing him back. 

Frank keeps kissing him, making Gerard lean into him and start to climb into his seat when Frank pulls away with a grin, “No, no, babe, I _really_ have to go.”

Gerard kisses him again then gets out of the car, leaning into the window that Frank rolled down. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll come by after work,” Frank says, “I know you hate Saturday crowds”.

Gerard beams at him and leans in for another kiss. Frank keeps it brief before laughing, “Ok, now I’m late. See you later.”

When Gerard gets inside, Pete and Mikey are getting their coffees ready before heading to work. Pete grins at him. “Well young man, you are way past curfew.”

Mikey rolls his eyes and screws on the lid to his travel mug, then he looks up and takes in Gerard. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

Mikey smiles a little, cocking his head to the side. “You’re kinda…”

“Glowing,” Pete finishes, his grin even bigger, “He totally got laid last night.”

Mikey groans and shakes his head. “No, we’re not talking about my brother’s sex life. Let’s go.”

Gerard just laughs and watches them leave, feeling lighter than he has in awhile. 

When he passes the mirror in the hall bathroom, he hesitates before going in and taking in his reflection. And, well, Pete was right. He does look glowing. His skin looks smooth and dewy, like he has on the most expensive foundation available at Sephora. His eyes don’t look sunken in, the dark circles that usually plagued him are gone and his eyes even look sparkly. He looks like Jennifer after she fucking ate a boy.

His hair even looks shiny. And not from grease. 

“Weird,” he whispers, poking his cheek like it belongs to someone else. 

He mopes around the house for a bit, bored and too wired to work on any of his commissions. He usually gets some done on Saturdays while Mikey is at work since he doesn’t have anything else to do. He sits on the couch, turning his phone in his hands and wonders if it would be too desperate to text Frank already.

 _He said he was your boyfriend_ , he thinks, but he’s not sure if that means he can just text him whenever. He sees Mikey texting Pete all the time even when he just saw him an hour ago. He wonders if that’s what it’s like to date someone, or if that’s just Mikey and Pete. 

He adds that to the growing list of things to ask Pete. 

He goes out to get the mail and, on his way over to the mailbox, he pauses by Sniffles, waiting for the hunger to slither against his stomach, but there’s nothing. Which, ok, it’s been twelve hours since he ate, he should be hungry by now. 

_Maybe it was some weird zombie ritual_ , he thinks. Maybe he had to eat human flesh to complete his...transformation? Kind of like vampires, right? They have to drink blood to complete the transition. At least that’s what he learned from Buffy, but that was blood from a sire, not some random guy in a bar. 

He really needs a Giles to explain all this to him. 

His phone buzzes and Gerard almost drops it on the pavement with how quickly he pulls it out of his pocket. 

_Dinner 2nite? Pick u up @ 7_

Gerard snorts. Of course Frank texts like a fucking teenager. 

_Sure._

*

It doesn’t help that he doesn’t know where they’re going, and Pete gets annoyed about that. 

“It’s probably a Chili’s,” Mikey says, sitting on Gerard’s bed as Pete picks through Gerard’s closet with a wrinkled nose. “He works at a grocery store.”

“True,” Pete says and then he throws a black button down at Gerard, “Wear that and jeans.”

Gerard frowns at the button down. “I’m pretty sure Frank would ban me from ever touching his dick again if I showed up wearing this,” he says, holding it up. It’s got embroidered roses near the shoulders. 

“Why the fuck do you have that?” Mikey asks, “Going to an emo rodeo on Sunday?”

“Shut the fuck up. Mom bought it for me,” he grumbles. 

“It’s the only button up you own,” Pete sighs, circling back through his clothes, “I guess this shirt doesn’t have too many stains and it doesn’t have a monster on the front of it.” He tosses him Mikey’s Joy Division shirt he stole a couple weeks back. 

“Fucker,” Mikey growls, snatching the shirt. 

“Mikey let him wear it,” Pete says, “Everything else looks like it came out of a swap monster’s den.”

“Wow, thanks,” Gerard mumbles. 

Mikey snorts and gives him the shirt then gets up to plug in his hair straightener. Gerard doesn’t know when he became a fucking Barbie doll for these two, but he lets them straighten his hair and throw eyeliner on before seven o’clock rolls around. 

“Order the most expensive thing on the menu,” Pete says when Frank pulls up to the house. 

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Do not do that.”

“That’s what I did on our first date.”

“Yeah I know, you’re a fucking dick.”

“You’re still here aren’t you?”

“You’re in my fucking house.”

Pete fakes a hurt look and Mikey rolls his eyes before kissing his cheek, making Gerard look away because it feels like he’s watching something private. He’s never seen Mikey so affectionate before, and he knows he’s thought it before, but he really likes this Pete Wentz kid. 

Gerard is about to walk out before Pete grabs his hand. “Wait, he’s not coming to the door? That’s a little douchey.”

Mikey laughs. “Dude, have you met the guy?”

“Hey,” Gerard mumbles. 

“No, which is why he should come to the door.”

“Oh my god,” Gerard says, pulling on his jacket, “You realize I’m older than you two?”

“Don’t break your curfew this time!” Pete laughs as Gerard walks out with a grin on his face. 

“You’re smiley,” Frank notes when Gerard gets in his car. 

“My brother and his boyfriend are a bit much,” he says, “they--”

But he’s cut off by Frank’s lips, and Gerard can get used to this dating thing if it means he gets to kiss Frank all the time. And Gerard is learning that he can’t _just_ kiss Frank and be done with it. It’s like his lips are laced with a drug he’s never had, promising a high that will always be too much and not enough all at once in the way that Frank is always too much, but still leaving him craving for more. 

“More,” Gerard whispers, shifting closer, feeling the center console digging into his hip.

Frank nods and tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair, messing up the style that Mikey took his time on and then there’s a loud knock. 

They pull apart and Gerard glares at Pete, who is grinning through Frank’s window. Frank almost looks like he’s blushing as he rolls down the window. 

Mikey is laughing, trying to pull Pete away. Pete leans down so he’s at eye level with Frank. “Hi, I’m Pete.”

“Frank,” Frank bites out, shifting a little in his seat and Gerard can see how hard he is in his tight jeans. Gerard still is gripping Frank’s shirt, leaning over the center console.

“Well,” Pete grins, “Nice to meet you. And well--”

Gerard cuts him off with a growl and Pete’s eyes widen before he chuckles and says, “Have a nice night!”

And then Mikey is dragging him away and Frank and him are alone again. Frank turns back to Gerard and licks the length of Gerard’s throat. “Fuck that was hot. Did you just _growl_? Do it again.”

Gerard grins and growls again.

Frank’s hands find their way to Gerard’s jeans. “Yeah, ok,” he groans, climbing into Gerard’s lap. 

Gerard laughs. “I have a bed inside. Or a couch that’s much closer.”

“Still too far,” Frank mutters, shoving his tongue into Gerard’s mouth. 

And well, Gerard is inclined to agree. 

*

Gerard’s never felt wanted before. Has never ever felt sexy in any capacity before he met Frank. He can’t get over the fact that Frank was too turned on by Gerard to take him inside, had to have him right there in the car. And Gerard doesn’t care that it’s messy and dirty and he’s pretty sure they smell like sex sitting in the Chili’s--but, fuck, Gerard has never felt like this before. No one has ever looked at Gerard like he was desirous, never touched him like he was a piece of treasure, never kissed him like he was feeding a starving man. 

Frank’s foot is brushing up his calf as he looks through the menu with a serious expression. Gerard skims the menu, knowing he’s going to get a steak, but frowns a little when he sees there’s not many vegan options. “We can go somewhere else,” he says.

Frank smiles. “I’m used to asking for modifications, don’t worry about it.”

Gerard nods. “Oh, ok.”

He doesn’t look at Frank as he orders the steak on the rare side, and just nods along to the waiter’s questions before he asks Frank his order and then they’re sitting in silence. 

Gerard is learning that Frank isn’t the type of person who can just sit in silence. He jumps right into a story about this love affair happening between the deli department manager and the baker. Apparently the baker is married and has kids, but he’s been sneaking into the stock room with the deli manager. 

“That’s unsanitary,” Gerard frowns. 

Frank just laughs and then dives into another story about this old lady who comes in dressed like she’s off to meet the President of the United States or something. He says that she can’t see for shit though so she’s always putting random shit in her basket that don’t make any sense. A lot of the time, if Frank isn’t busy, he’ll help her shop so that she doesn’t walk out of the store with useless stuff. 

“You’re such a softy,” Gerard beams. 

Frank blushes and leans in. “Lower your voice,” he teases softly. 

Gerard rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his soda as he waits for another story from Frank. Their food arrives and Frank looks like he’s going to be sick as Gerard cuts into his steak, red spilling out and running all over his plate. 

“Are you sure that thing is even cooked?” Frank chokes, “It looks like it’s still mooing.”

Gerard grins. “That’s sort of the point.”

Frank looks like he’s really going to throw up now and Gerard puts the menu up in front of his plate. “Um, does that help? I’m sorry, I should have ate before we came.”

“What?” Frank says, “Don’t be ridiculous, why would you eat before I took you out to dinner?”

“Because you look like you’re about to hurl on the table,” Gerard says in a tiny voice. 

Frank sighs and takes the menu from Gerard’s hands and sets it down. “Look, this is part of you,” he says gesturing to the steak, “I know what I’m signing up for.”

Gerard hesitates and then, when Frank nods, he takes a bite of the steak. 

“There, see?” Frank says, “All good.”

They don’t talk about it again. Instead Frank keeps Gerard too busy talking about Pete and Mikey to really worry about how grossed out Frank probably is watching Gerard finish up his meal. Gerard tells Frank a bit about how worried he was when Mikey was dating guys that didn’t treat him right. There was that one guy during Mikey’s senior year who used to always forget to call or pick him up for a date like he said he would. Mikey would always come over to Gerard’s on those nights and play video games and drink cheap vodka. It’d always start off light, Mikey just shrugging like “I don’t care” and kicking Gerard’s ass in Mortal Kombat, but by the end of the night he would always be drunk on the bathroom floor, Gerard rubbing his back as he spewed, “Why am I not good enough?” 

Frank frowns and reaches out to take Gerard’s hand. 

“But now he has Pete,” Gerard says, and tells him how Pete is always around. And some people might call Pete clingy, but he’s perfect for someone like Mikey. Mikey always seemed shy and standoffish,but he was always hungry for attention. Gerard always thought it was sort of cute how he would lean into Gerard patting his shoulder like he was a cat, or he’d always drape his legs over Gerard when they were watching television. He thinks it grounds him, thinks that sometimes Mikey gets like Gerard where he gets too far in his head and touch keeps him in the present. 

“They sound great together,” Frank smiles, taking the bill that Gerard missed being placed down on the table. 

Gerard makes a move to take it from him but Frank holds it out of his reach. “Nope, I’ve got this. You can get it next time.”

Gerard likes the sound of next time.

They end up going back to Gerard’s house since Frank would have to drop him off later anyway. His face lights up when he walks inside into the living room and takes his time walking around to look at everything. Gerard didn’t pack up any of Elena’s belongings when he moved in, and when Mikey moved in he didn’t want to do it either. It wasn’t a lazy thing, it was just that it felt so much like home with all of Elena’s trinkets decorating the shelves and bookcases. 

Gerard watches Frank look at the different sea shells, ceramic figurines, and picture frames. He tries not to wince when he finds a picture of Gerard when he was in the third grade, but Frank just beams at the photo before moving on. 

Gerard takes Frank’s hand and leads him down to the basement. Frank grins when he sees how different Gerard’s room looks from the rest of the house. He looks through Gerard’s stack of vinyl, putting on Blur and Gerard wonders if he looked into Brit Pop since their day at the record store. He lets Frank flip through his crate of comic books that are sitting by his desk, the ones that he uses the most for references for the comic he’s creating. When Frank sits at his desk, Gerard gets a little jumpy, but he likes the image of Frank there too much to ask him to move. Frank holds out his arm, so Gerard comes over and sits in his lap. 

“Tell me about these,” Frank murmurs, opening Gerard’s sketchbook. So, Gerard talks about each drawing that Frank flips through. A lot of them are from Gerard’s senior year in art school. There’s drawings that he made of people he found interesting while sitting in a coffee shop, of creatures he’s had dreams of, of things that don’t really exist in anyone else’s imagination. Frank stares up at Gerard like he has the secrets to the world, his eyes focused and he’s nodding along, but not in the polite way. He’s nodding like he’s understanding and wants Gerard to continue. He’s looking at Gerard like he never wants him to stop talking. 

That is until Frank flips to a drawing of himself. 

“Oh,” Frank whispers, tracing the lines of his own face and Gerard wonders if Frank can see how special he looks on the paper, if he sees what Gerard’s ink has captured in the mirror in the mornings. “I don’t look like this,” he murmurs. 

Gerard nods and turns so that he’s straddling Frank’s hips and facing him. “Yeah you do,” he whispers, “I’m really good at portraits.”

Frank chuckles, “No, I mean. I don’t look that...bright? I don’t know how to explain it, but that looks like me, but not really. Do you know what I mean?”

Gerard smiles softly, stroking his smooth cheek, loving how it starts off soft then gets rougher the closer he gets to Frank’s jaw. “You see,” Gerard starts, feeling brave and sexy under Frank’s eyes and hands, “You act so cocky--no, really,” he giggles, “But”--he leans down to lick up Frank’s cheek, “But then you say things like that. And it’s not fair. You can’t be the sweetest man I’ve ever met wrapped up in this body, in this fucking attitude.”

He can feel Frank’s smiles against his lips. “I’m complicated.”

Gerard doesn’t remember it ever being like this. He’s had crushes and he’s hooked up before, but he’s never had this fire coursing through him at all times. And Frank’s like the oxygen he needs to feed the flame, to make him burn brighter, hotter, against Frank, sparks flying up between them and Gerard just wants to burn down to a smoldering amber together. 

“Show me,” Gerard breathes, against his jaw. 

Frank smirks and kisses him, searing hot before lifting him up out of the chair and laying him out on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright today's recommendation is [Kids Like Us Don't Get Forgiven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/585398) which was one of the first MCR fanfics I read. Actually I think my first fic was Anatomy of a Fall, then this one to be honest. It is EVERYTHING that I crave in a frerard fanfic. I love the angst, I love a good recovery story. I love sloppy, messy romances that shouldn't make sense, but they're healing in their own way. It's just beautiful and if you haven't read this one yet, you really should.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a bit angsty, but hi, hello, it's me...you should expect this from me. This fic is tagged "Angst with a happy ending" so please keep that in mind as you read from here on out. Things get a little bumpy but I have a plan! (Remember how you all doubted me during [Twisting Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670846/chapters/59617150)?).

“Why do you keep watching that?” Gerard bites out, picking up the remote and turning off the news that keeps showing the photo of the man he killed. 

Mikey frowns. “You can’t ignore it. We need to be on top of it so we know it’s not coming back to us.”

“You mean _me_.”

Mikey squared his shoulders. “I mean _us_.”

Gerard sorta wished Pete was here, but he was at band practice. It had been pretty hilarious to watch this small man with a trucker hat come in his grandmother’s house and use every curse word in the english language, and probably a few others since Pete had mentioned he was obsessed with learning other languages. Patrick was a very angry little man, and Gerard had gotten up to hide in the kitchen at one point, Mikey came in and rolled his eyes, “Dude you’re a zombie and you’re scared of _Patrick_?”

“He’s very loud,” Gerard whispered. 

The thing was that Patrick took music very seriously, so he was a little peeved that Mikey had been monopolizing his lyricist and bass player. Pete was a little pouty about it, but he ended up leaving with Patrick, shooting a look at Mikey like he was going off to war and wouldn’t see Mikey for years. 

“He’s a bit dramatic,” Gerard noted. 

Mikey arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think you have room to talk.”

“I’m not dramatic.”

“You’re a zombie.”

Anyway, Gerard liked having Pete around when him and Mikey argued because Pete had a way of making Mikey play nice. But he wasn’t here so Gerard was standing tense in the living room staring at the blank television like he could still see that man’s face. 

“Pete thinks we should fake your death or something,” Mikey says. 

Gerard snorts. “I already have a grave apparently.”

“It wasn’t a very good one,” Mikey says, “We didn’t get you a proper casket or gravestone.”

Gerard turns to look at him slowly. “Because I’m not really dead, Mikes.”

Mikey hunches his shoulders, like it’s too tiring to sit up straight and Gerard starts to feel guilty. He hadn’t really been thinking about the toll this was taking on his brother. Gerard had thought he was doing alright, he had Pete. But seeing his brother in the unforgiving wash of daylight, Mikey looked fucking awful. He didn’t look like he was sleeping, hardly eating, and there was something about him that just looked defeated. 

“Mikes?” Gerard whispers. 

Mikey buries his head in his hands and Gerard watches in horror as his shoulders start to shake. Gerard sinks down to the floor so that he’s right in front of him. He wraps his hands around Mikey’s calves and squeezes. “Mikes, I’m right here, it’s ok.”

“I didn’t think any of this through,” Mikey whispers, “I just wanted you back.”

“I am back,” Gerard reminds him, “It’s alright, we’ll figure out the rest.”

“I should have staged a funeral or whatever. Should have told mom you were dead,” Mikey says, “That way there would be no way to trace any...mistakes back to you.”

Gerard swallows and rests his forehead against Mikey’s bony knees. “I don’t want mom to think I’m dead,” he whispers. He wouldn’t want that at all. “And if you had done that, I wouldn’t have been able to leave the house.”

“Like that would have mattered to you,” Mikey snorts.  
  
Gerard smiles, then lifts his head. “I wouldn’t have met Frank.”

Mikey drops his hands and Gerard’s smile fades when he sees how red Mikey’s eyes are, how damp his cheeks are. He reaches up and wipes Mikey’s tears away like he used to do when they were kids and Mikey had a nightmare. It just sort of shakes him that now he’s Mikey’s nightmare. 

“That’s true,” Mikey says, smiling a little, “You’re happy with him.”

Gerard nods, “Very happy. I don’t...Mikey, I…”

Mikey’s smile grows a little more and he laughs quietly, shaking his head. “I know, Gee.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was complicated, Gerard’s thoughts on what he did and where he was now. Some days he can’t believe he got in that tub, but then there’s others where he’s a little mad at Mikey for making it so he can never die. He still has to shower in the other bathroom, and from seeing Mikey’s soaps in there, he still does too. 

“I don’t know if this is rude or whatever,” Frank had said when they were laying in Gerard’s bed one night, “but how did you die?”

Telling Frank that he was a zombie was a lot easier than telling him that he killed himself. He wasn’t really sure how Frank would take it, though he accepted him as a monster pretty quickly. It just, he knows he shouldn’t be so hard on himself about it. He knows that there’s this stigma against mental illness that there shouldn’t be. He wonders if maybe he wouldn’t have tried...well, maybe if it felt like he could talk about it more openly things wouldn’t be how they are right now. 

“Gee?” Frank asked again, reaching out to caress his cheek, “Did you hurt yourself?”

Gerard turned his face to hide it in the pillows and he felt Frank move so that he was more wrapped around Gerard. He petted Gerard’s greasy hair and sighed, “It’s ok, you don’t have to talk about it.”

Gerard thinks he should talk about it. That he _needs_ to talk about it. 

“Not yet,” Gerard whispered. 

*

Gerard is starting to feel the effects of his...kill, fade away. He had seriously thought that maybe he was changed forever after that. He had gone days without feeling that horrible pain of hunger, he could be around Frank and not worry about hurting him. 

But it’s coming back, like a snake waking up in his stomach and starting to stir to make Gerard aware that it’s still there. He had been foolish in thinking that things would be easier now. He was starting to realize that it was only going to get worse. 

Because he looked fucking dead again.

His eyes were sunken back in, dull and circled with dark shadows. His skin was pale and felt dry, like if he rubbed against it too hard it would crumble under his fingertips. His hair was stringy and he was worried it would start falling out in clumps in the shower. He didn’t know how Frank was still attracted to him, but he still smiles every day when Gerard comes into the grocery store. 

“You know, I can just bring things home for you,” Frank murmured, leaning in for a kiss. 

“I like my routines,” Gerard said, blushing a little because he mostly liked the excuse of being able to see Frank during the day. 

And Gerard feels weak, like that first day in the store. He thinks he’s going to pass out in front of his grandmother’s mirror, but then he hears a loud beeping coming from downstairs. 

What the hell?

And smoke, it smells like something is on fire. 

He rushes down the stairs, nearly sliding down the steps in his shaky attempts to be quick and still remain calm. There’s a cloud of smoke and Mikey is yelling and opening windows. 

“I’m sorry!”

“Frank?” Gerard asks, frowning, because he can’t see through the smoke yet. 

Once the smoke leaks through the windows Mikey has opened, he can see Frank waving a dish towel and coughing. “I’m sorry, I was trying to cook you breakfast, but I haven’t cooked meat...ever I think. I don’t think I’ve ever cooked a steak.”

Mikey starts laughing, like doubled over and laughing with his hands around his stomach. And Gerard can’t help it, when Mikey is laughing, Gerard has to laugh. He’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and it only gets worse when Frank starts smiling all bashful which looks so fucking cute on him that Gerard just has to pull him into his arms. 

He kisses him, which is a little hard since they’re both still laughing a bit. “Thank you, that was really sweet.”

“Yeah very cute,” Mikey says sarcastically, but Gerard can see that Mikey is actually pretty impressed with Frank. 

Mikey ends up cooking another steak the way that Gerard likes it and then throws some waffles in the toaster for him and Frank. And it’s nice, this little slice of normality. 

“You should stay for dinner,” Mikey says, “Ray is coming over.”

Gerard tries to follow their conversation as he eats, but he just feels really off. Sorta like the first time he tried to get clean. It had been such a nightmare, so much so that he didn’t try again after that. It had been right out of college, after he developed quite a habit. He had barely graduated because he was sleeping through all his classes from drinking all night. 

It was Mikey who had made him try to clean up. Him and Ray, but he was mostly doing it to get the haunted look off of Mikey’s face. And it fucking hurt, it made him sick and feel like his skin was crawling off his body. And the fucking shakes, that was the worst. He remembers how it felt to lay in his bed with his sheets soaked through with sweat and vomit, just shaking like a leaf out of desperation and fear. 

Gerard can see his hand shaking around the fork he’s holding and he tries to steady it before Mikey can notice. 

But he looks up and sees Mikey staring at him the same way he had back then. 

It’s scary, so fucking terrifying to think he’s just sinking back into his old skin, skin he thought he had shed when all of this went down. It’s not like he expected an easy fix, he knows from talking to Ray that he should go find a therapist and maybe get on meds, but he’s not really sure that would work now. Does medicine even work on his brain? And where is he going to find a therapist who will listen to him talk about the trauma of dying then having to dig himself out of his own grave without admitting him to a psych ward?

Frank, being Frank, reads the fucking room and gets Gerard out of there. Because sometimes change in scenery helps, and Gerard does find some solace in Frank’s grimy apartment. He likes to take off his shoes and feel the carpet in between his toes, and he likes that when he walks he feels bits of chip crumbs and torn paper sticking to his feet. 

One of the worst things that Gerard remembers about getting clean was the mood swings. How angry he would get, and that’s all fine and well except Gerard is a fucking zombie and he’s still in a new relationship, he’s really trying to be on his best behavior. Snapping at Mikey is bad enough, he hates how Mikey looks at him with wild eyes like he’s ready to fight but his body is slack like he’s already given up. And then Pete would just put his arm around Mikey’s shoulder and lead him away, staring at Gerard with sad eyes. 

So it’s all just getting to him. The looking dead. The not being able to eat again. The shakes. The anger. All of it pressed down on top of the fact that he fucking killed himself and he’s killed someone else. There’s just...how is he supposed to wrap his mind around all of this? How is anyone supposed to 

“Gerard, stop,” Frank says sternly, and Gerard blinks, realizing that he’s been sitting in Frank’s bedroom with a comic book in his lap, only the pages look like they’re mostly ribbons at this point. He sees the torn bits of paper in his fingernails and around him on the bed. 

“Sorry,” Gerard whispers. 

Frank stares at him for a moment before taking the comic out of his lap and tossing it on the floor. He pulls Gerard’s hands into his lap and picks out the bits of paper from under his nails and tosses them on the floor too. Gerard feels his blood boiling, thinks that he should go home so that he doesn’t hurt Frank because even though he’s been eating his normal amount of red meat again, it doesn’t feel like it’s doing anything for him. 

He’s about to apologize again when Frank kisses him, and it’s not slow and soft like he thought it would be. He’s starting to get used to everyone walking on eggshells around him, sensing that Gerard is going to break again at any moment. But Frank doesn’t seem to care, or he thinks Gerard is stronger than everyone is giving him credit for. Gerard feels that stir in his stomach, feels that excitement of being close to flesh--no Frank. 

“Frank,” he murmurs, not sure if he just wants to feel his name on his tongue or remind his body that _we don’t eat Frank_. The hunger slithers and scurries in the pit of his stomach, like it’s up for the challenge, but then Frank pins Gerard down onto his back as if he sees the internal battle that Gerard is fighting. 

He pushes Gerard’s shirt off and throws it on the floor with the comic and torn papers. He wraps his hands around Gerard’s wrists and pulls his arms up and over his head, crossing them and pressing them down into the pillows. “Keep them there,” he instructs softly, but there’s no room for arguments and the words shake Gerard so much that his teeth feel like they’re vibrating. He just stares up at Frank and nods. 

He’s come to realize that he should just stop comparing the sex he’s had with the sex he has with Frank, because they just don’t compare at all. Frank has this way of reading Gerard that he’s never had before, this way of knowing exactly what Gerard needs and it would be terrifying if Gerard wasn’t so broken and willing for Frank to put back the pieces. He’s been so in his head that a simple instruction such as keeping his hands on the pillows is such relief he could cry at the quietness of his mind. 

Frank watches him settle into his position then kisses his forehead gently, before licking his mouth open and kissing him like he’s taking everything for Gerard. And Gerard is all too willing to give it to him. Frank lets go of Gerard’s wrists and strokes his hands down his sides, and Gerard doesn’t think, just reaches to tangle his fingers in Frank’s hair. Frank smirks against Gerard’s lips before sitting up and capturing Gerard’s wrists again, pinning them back to their place. “What did I say?”

Gerard blushes and crosses his wrists and tries to focus again. Frank kisses him softly. “Be good,” he whispers, before kissing down his chest and undoing his jeans. Gerard grips the pillow that his hands are on as Frank pulls his jeans down over the curve of his ass and doesn’t wait to take them all the way off before taking him in his mouth. 

And it shouldn’t be this much. It shouldn't be driving Gerard out of his mind, it’s just a blowjob but fuck Frank’s mouth is so wicked in all the best ways. Gerard focuses on the heaviness of his hands on the pillows, how they feel like lead under Frank’s instruction not to move them. He just thinks about not moving, of following his simple instruction that there’s nothing in his mind but Frank, Frank, Frank. His hot, wet mouth. The slide of his tongue. His hands pressing Gerard’s bucking hips down into the mattress. He can’t think about anything, nothing at all not the grave, not the bar bathroom, not the shakiness, not the tub. And not the words tumbling out of his mouth, not the “please” or “fuck, Frank” or “more”. Not even the tell tale signs of his breath being taken away and he arches, straining against his heavy wrists and Frank’s hands on his hips as he comes with a sob. And then Frank is kissing his hips, licking over where he had gripped him so roughly. “Shh, I know, baby,” he murmurs against his skin.

Frank crawls back up to Gerard and kisses him gently, reaching up to take Gerard’s hands off the pillow and then he kisses his palms, sucks on his fingertips. “Better?”

Gerard chuckles softly, “Yeah.”

Frank smiles around Gerard’s thumb that’s in his mouth. “Good,” he murmurs, pulling off his thumb with a soft pop. 

Gerard reaches for him and Frank kisses him chaste, slowing down any advances that Gerard tries to make. He frowns, when Frank stops his hands from reaching down to his pants. “I’m fine,” he promises with a grin, “Somethings are just about you.”

He wants to bask in this feeling of safety with Frank. Where his thoughts can’t hurt him because they’re all of Frank, and Frank would never hurt him. He wants to lay here all night and talk about the fact that Pepsi products are vastly superior to Coke products and listen to Frank tell him about his band and how they’re starting to get asked to play outside of Jersey. He wants to make silly jokes with him about how him dating a zombie is clashing with his vegan lifestyle and he wants to watch Frank beam when he talks about his family, how proud of them he is and how he calls his mom every week to tell her about what’s going on in his life, which sort of stings because he hasn’t been the best son to his mom. He thinks that maybe he should call her tomorrow and tell her that he’s met someone, she’d like that. She was always so worried about him and it made him feel so guilty. 

He tries to keep Frank awake with more questions so he wouldn’t have to be alone with his thoughts, but eventually Frank loses the battle with his eyelids and he drifts off next to Gerard. 

Sleeping had been hard when he had tried to stay sober the first time too. He remembers locking himself in his room because he couldn’t go to any parties yet, he just didn’t have the will power to go hang out with people and not drink. But the empty nights in his room had been their own form of hell. He couldn’t draw because his hands shook so much. He couldn’t talk to Mikey because he didn’t want to see that sad look on his face, and he couldn’t call Ray without feeling like an asshole. So he just paced in his room. 

Until he got too much and he just went out. 

And the worst part, the absolute _worst_ was that Mikey hadn’t even been mad. It was like he expected Gerard to fuck up. And Ray didn’t lecture him, he just sat at Sunday dinner and watched as Gerard cracked open a beer with sad eyes. Because there wasn’t anything they could do to help him. 

Just like now. 

Gerard paces around Frank’s room and he just can’t ignore the clawing in his stomach, the growl that’s rumbling in the back of his throat and he knows he has to get out of here or he’s going to attack Frank. 

He doesn’t even grab his jacket or shoes, just runs out of the apartment and tries to focus on the gravel against his bare feet as he hurries down the empty street. Frank doesn’t live in the best part of town, there really isn’t a _good_ part of town. Murders happen all the time in this part of Jersey, he and Mikey never really got to go outside to play when they were kids and he likes to think that’s why he’s such a hermit. 

He passes the quarry where a lot of bad shit always happens, there’s always a body getting dragged out on the morning news and Gerard tries not to think that as a positive as he walks closer to it. Tries not to think of that as a great cover story as he surveys the figures staggered in the shadows. Tries not to think that no one here would be missed. 

Tries not to justify his actions like he used to do when he was drinking. 

And he tries not to think about how he’s not even surprised. Because he knows he’s a fuck up, had made peace with that when he had filled up that tub all those weeks ago. 

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sinks his teeth into flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really loving adding recs at the end of these chapters because it's making me go look for my old favorites that I used to read all the time, back before I had an account on here and used bookmarks. [Til I Find a Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/649377) is one of those classic angsty fics with Pre-MCR Gerard trying to figure out what the fuck he's supposed to be doing.
> 
> Also, I know I said I'd stick to mostly MCR recs, but I lied because I've started to read and write Peterick and there's some amazing fics out there that need some love. [At Some Point It Becomes True](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2019858) is so fucking beautiful. Like, I don't think I could really do it justice by trying to summarize it for you, but if you like angst with a spoonful of healing and a happy ending then you should just read this. You're welcome.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter...has a lot going on.
> 
> Also I'm not sure why both my wips are in the middle of Thanksgiving...I think my body is telling me it's ready for fall food already.

Lying comes easy to an addict. 

It startles Gerard how easily he lets it slip off his tongue in front of Frank without any hesitation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You look better,” he says when he stretches awake the next morning. 

Gerard lays on his side and watches the way the morning light licks over Frank’s still peaceful features. He wonders if Frank knows how vulnerable he looks when he sleeps. How slack his face is, the way his lips pout slightly when they’re not stretched into a smirk or scowl. He wonders if Frank knows he makes the sweetest, soft sounds as he starts to wake up, like he’s being coaxed back into the world. 

“Sex will do that to a man,” Gerard says. 

Frank snorts and yawns, before reaching out for him. Gerard leans into him easily, lets his guitar callused hands run over his face and he can feel the bounce in his skin, the elasticity back. He had paused to stare in the mirror when he snuck back into Frank’s house last night. He washed the blood off his mouth and jaw then just ogled at his appearance. 

“Don’t go to work today,” Gerard says, cringing a little at how needy he sounds. 

Frank smirks up at him, pulling his head down so he can kiss him. Gerard likes that Frank isn’t the kind of guy who worries about morning breath, that he just runs on his instincts around him. Like Gerard just drives him to want to kiss, touch, fuck. Gerard shifts so that he’s pushing into him, crawling over him to straddle his hips. 

“Mmm, no, babe, I really do have to go in today,” Frank murmurs, but he doesn’t stop kissing him. 

“Call in sick,” Gerard whispers so he doesn’t sound like he’s begging. He just doesn’t want to be alone in that house again. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. 

Frank stares up at him and Gerard almost takes it back, almost says, “I’m just kidding, get going or you’ll be late”, but the _need_ to be with Frank is so acute in his chest he thinks he’s going to double over. And he sees the moment where that clicks in Frank’s mind, watches how his bemusement turns into wonder then understanding. Gerard’s not sure what to do with that. He sorta wants to hide under Frank’s bed, but that would be really fucking weird even for him, so he just stares back and wills Frank to make the decision for them. 

Because they both know it’s not just about Frank calling off work so they can stay in bed all day and fuck, this is Frank realizing that Frank is _that_ person for Gerard. Someone to burrow into and feels safe. He’s the one that gets Gerard out of his head, gets him talking about horror movies, comics, and music like they really mean something. He’s the one that’s making Gerard feel more comfortable in his own skin, whatever that means now. And fuck, he really wishes he had met Frank when he was still human because maybe it would have changed everything. He’s not stupid, he knows that being in a relationship doesn’t cure anything in his head the same why it doesn’t mend a broken bone, but it _helps_. Fuck does it help. To just be able to talk to someone without needed to be drunk first so that he wouldn’t care how stupid he sounded. Because Frank still smiled and grinned even if he did sound stupid, and he asked him to keep going like he wasn’t stupid at all. 

“C’mere,” Frank whispers, cupping his hand behind the back of Gerard’s head and pulling him against his chest. Gerard rests his ear against Frank’s beating heart and just focuses on the sound, lets the rhythm soothe over his mind like a lullaby. 

He just holds him for what feels like hours, he knows that Frank is late to work by now, but he doesn’t make any effort to get up. 

“Talk to me,” he says so softly Gerard would have missed it if he hadn’t felt the vibrations against his cheek, “Tell me what happened.”

Gerard knows he’s not asking just to get Gerard to open up, this isn’t a test. It’s not to get him worked up or get a good cry out of him. Frank’s trying to understand, and he’s been doing so fucking good without any point of reference, but it’s getting to be too much. Gerard knows this. He knows this is way more than what Frank had signed up for when he pulled him into his car that first day in the parking lot. He had just been looking for a good lay, not a zombie boyfriend with depression. 

“I…” but he trails off because he doesn’t know how he wants to go about this. If he wants to be blunt and just tell him he offed himself, or does he want to give him the full story to explain himself. How far down does he want to go? 

He wishes Frank would push him, but he just waits. Just lays there quietly and works the tangles out of Gerard’s hair with his fingers. 

“I killed myself,” he whispers and exhales when Frank’s hand doesn’t still. 

“I sorta pieced that together,” Frank says gently, he tugs on Gerard’s hair, “I was hoping you’d fill in the blanks for me.”

“I filled up our bathtub and then swallowed my brother’s pills, all of them,” he says, keeping his voice dull and still detached. 

Frank moves then, shifts them so that Gerard is laying on his back and Frank is laying on his side, hoisted up on his elbow, looking down at him. “Not what I meant.”

Gerard shrugs, and turns his head to look away from Frank’s piercing gaze. Frank wraps his fingers around his jaw and turns him back. “No, look at me,” he says sternly, then kisses him softly. He pulls back and says, “I work at the grocery store because it’s the only place that will hire me with my record.”

Gerard feels his eyebrow raise and Frank chuckles, kissing it then continues, “It’s not really funny, but I just--” he cuts off, but he doesn’t really need to explain himself. Gerard likes to think he knows Frank too. That he knows Frank likes to hide behind humor or insults, likes to hold his frown the wrong way with a sexy smirk or cocky laugh. “I used to get into a lot of trouble when I was a kid. And I fucking know why it is, like, I’ve had enough shrinks tell me I’m so aggressive because I’m small and an easy target. Or was, still am--whatever, I just, fuck. After high school me and my friends used to play at this bar a few neighborhoods over and it was our last show because half my band was going off to college, and so, yeah I was a little pissed and I had been drinking a lot. And this dickhat kept making eyes at my girl and I don’t know, I just didn’t want another thing taken from me, and I get how fucked that sounds, but I just lashed out I guess.”

Gerard doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Frank taps on his chest and then smiles when Gerard exhales. “Sorry,” Gerard whispers, “I’m not scared, it’s just...heavy.”

“I know,” Frank whispers back, then starts tracing shapes on Gerard’s chest, “I grabbed a bottle and just attacked the guy. He was fine--” he adds quickly when he feels Gerard’s chest stop moving, and waits till he starts breathing again-- “I was charged with aggravated assault and spent two years locked up. When I got out, no one would hire me, so my dad pulled some strings and that’s how I got where I am right now.”

Gerard takes Frank’s hand that’s still moving anxiously across his chest and brings it up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles, and Gerard hopes Frank understands the gesture. That Frank’s used this hand to hurt before, but he’s also used it to love, to heal and to put Gerard back together. 

Frank starts to say something, but Gerard hears it get stuck in his throat and then they’re just kissing, hot, desperate kissing from two broken boys who’ve ruined themselves and are still picking up the pieces. 

“I didn’t tell you to make you feel sorry for me or anything,” Frank says, pulling away with a stubborn expression. And it sort of changes the way Gerard looks at him, understands him. Not in the way that Frank probably thinks. He doesn’t think less of him, it just makes sense. All the walls built up. He had to have them up. He had to have all these deflecting qualities so no one could see the ooey gooey soft, scared boy he really was. The kid that just didn’t want to get picked on, didn’t want to be abandoned.

“I know,” Gerard says, making sure his voice doesn’t sound so soft and soothing, because Frank doesn’t need that right now. He needs Gerard to still treat him the same, he needs him to still crawl over him in the car and kneel down onto gum and trash to suck him off. 

“I just wanted,” Frank says, kissing him again, because it’s a good distraction, “I guess, to let you know that it’s ok to fuck up.”

Gerard pulls back and blinks at him. “What?”

Frank traces Gerard’s swollen lips with his index finger and smiles wistfully. “I get it. And it’s fucked, but you’re here now. You need to forgive yourself and move on, or what’s the point?”

*

Frank did end up calling into work with a pitiful performance of being “sick”. And then they had gotten up to pick at cereal in Frank’s kitchen before Frank hoisted Gerard up on the kitchen table and shoved the bowls to the ground, chuckling at the sound of them breaking on the floor.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he grinned, before wrecking Gerard in every way imaginable, and possibly unimaginable if they didn’t have Frank’s wicked mind. Frank knew things about Gerard’s body that even he didn’t know. Like, that thing Frank did--where he had Gerard on his back, his thighs pressed against his soft stomach, knees spread wide, and wrapped his wrist around Gerard’s ankle before _licking_ the sole of his fucking foot. Yeah, Gerard didn’t know he had a foot thing until he felt Frank’s teeth sink into the tendon there before he lapped at it soothingly with his tongue, didn’t know that watching Frank’s cheeks hollow out while he sucked on his toes was a thing for him, but it had Gerard _whining_ like a fucking animal in heat. 

“So unsanitary,” Gerard had panted when Frank collapsed next to him. 

Frank snorted and got up to get another bowl of cereal, standing among the broken glass and fruity pebbles. And that was the moment Gerard knew he was in fucking love with this guy. Standing ass naked in his kitchen with a mess on the kitchen floor, eating cereal and smiling wolfishly at Gerard like he could go for round two as soon as he drank the stupid almond milk at the bottom of the bowl. 

*

Thanksgiving at Donna’s house was always a mess. She never started until noon because she didn’t see the point of ruining her morning just to cook a bird. Her sides were usually always slightly undercooked, and she always forgot the rolls. Always. 

But that never deterred Gerard and Mikey from bundling up to take the trip over to her house. Every year they sighed and dragged their feet as they took the tiresome efforts of making it look like they had their lives together. They’d shower, actually _wash_ their hair instead of just letting the water run over it, and they’d put on clothes that didn’t have rips or ink stains. And then Ray would show up looking like the perfect angelic son that every mother wanted and they would show up just in time for Donna to be three glasses of wine in. The only difference this year was that Pete and Frank were coming. 

It was so weird to have that conversation with Frank, the negotiating holidays with the family conversation. Gerard never thought he’d have that before, but he wanted Frank to meet his mom and he _wanted_ Frank to bring him home to his parents. But here he is, standing in his living room with clothes that look like they have actually seen the inside of a washing machine and he even combed his hair. And then he sees the fucking yellow daisies he’s holding in his skelton fingerless gloves. 

Gerard raises an eyebrow. 

“What?” Frank smirks, “Moms love me.”

“Keep your dirty hands off my mother, Iero,” Mikey drawls, walking into the living room still looking for his other shoe that he had started looking for over an hour ago. 

Frank grips Gerard’s hips and pulls him close. “Don’t worry, I’ve got my hands full enough with one Way as it is.”

“Found it!” He hears Pete shout from the backyard. 

“Why would it…” Mikey trails off then grins, “Oh, oh right.”

“I don’t want to know,” Gerard groans, pulling out of Frank’s hold to put on his jacket. 

Ray comes down the steps, holding Mikey’s bass. “Ok, I think I got the strings back on, just...don’t let Pete try to make it shoot flames again...oh, hi,” he says when he sees Frank, “You must be Frank.”

Frank plucks a flower out of the bouquet and hands it to Ray. “You must be Ray.”

Ray beams and takes the flower and looks at Gerard. “You can keep him.”

Squeezing five boys into Mikey’s car was a bit funny, but it didn’t really make sense to all drive separately when Mikey had planned on everyone coming back to stay up and play video games while they ate leftover pie. It wasn’t that far of a ride, but it always sent Gerard down into memory lane as they traveled up familiar streets, when they passed his old high school and the library that he would read D & D Manuals in. Frank must have seen the expression on his face, because he took his hand in his and squeezed. 

His mom greets them with a glass of wine and Gerard is glad that he wasn’t human and craving alcohol or it would have sent his stomach lurching. He and Mikey were always good at keeping his mom in the dark about Gerard’s alcoholism and depression, she didn’t handle stress very well. “Boys, get in here,” she pretends to scold, “you’re all too skinny.”

They all get ushered in and Frank awkwardly holds out the flowers, “These are for you.”

Donna beams at him, draining the last of her glass and handing it off to Mikey, to which Mikey mumbled, “Kiss ass.”

“This is Frank,” Gerard tells her, standing a little closer to Frank so he doesn’t feel like he’s standing in front of the firing squad. And he gets it. The thing is that Donna loves everyone really, at least genuine people. She loves the weirdos and doesn’t give a fuck if you just walked out of prison, she’d make a place for you at the table. Which is good for Frank. 

“Nice to meet you, hon,” She says, taking the flowers, “Let’s get into the kitchen before the bird burns.”

She takes Pete’s hand and pats his shoulder. “And you must be Pete then, Mikey tells me all about you on the phone. You know, since at least one of my sons calls me.”

“Ma,” Gerard groans, following her. 

Donna ignores him and digs a spoon into the stuffing before offering it to Ray. “What do you think? More salt?”

Ray chuckles and tastes the stuffing even though the answer is always, “No more salt” when it comes to Donna’s cooking. 

“Frankie, stir those potatoes on the stove, would ya?” She says, sticking pecans on top of the sweet potato casserole.

“I told you Frank was vegan, right?” Gerard says as he watches Frank pick up the wooden spoon by the stove and stir the mashed potatoes. 

“Yeah,” She says, “I went to Whole Foods, which is a really strange place. The sides are vegan, but sorry, sweetie, I can’t really veganize the bird.”

Frank blushes and Gerard crowds his space, resting his chin on his shoulder as he stirs the potatoes. “See?” Frank mumbles, “Told you moms like me.”

“Yeah, you did,” he says fondly, kissing his cheek. 

Dinner is all of them crammed around the Way’s small dining room table and lots of loud talking. Gerard grins at the way Frank keeps eyeing his mom’s doll collection that’s on display in the room, but proud of the way he holds his own during dinner. He answers his mom’s questions about his job and what he likes to do. She chuckles when she finds out he’s in a band and looks at her two sons, “Another musician?” 

They both blush and shove food in their mouths so they don’t have to answer. 

Pete looks like he’s in heaven with all the food and quirkiness of the house. He keeps asking Donna about her life, and listens like he’s really interested. Frank stares at him like he’s a little spooked by that, but by the end of the meal, Pete’s pretty much won everyone over by his charisma and earnest heart. 

“You feeling alright?” His mom asks suddenly, and everyone tries to look really interested in their emptying plates. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”

“Just not very hungry I guess,” Gerard lies, which gets Mikey’s attention. 

Gerard shoots him a look like _I’m fine_. 

To which Mikey raises his eyebrow like _I don’t believe you_. 

“Well, let me make you a plate to go then,” his mom says, looking between Gerard and Mikey and clearly knowing something is going on. 

“Thanks,” Gerard mumbles and smiles a little when he feels Frank kick at his feet under the table. 

As they’re helping Donna put sort out leftovers and clean up the kitchen she says, “You boys are being careful right? I saw that there was a murder in a bar that you kids probably go to.”

Gerard stiffens.

“Oh, yeah, we heard about that,” Ray says, stepping up, “Don’t worry, we’ve been staying home most nights lately.”

“Oh good,” She sighs, snapping on tupperware containers, “Then they found that body at the quarry.”

Gerard tries not to notice how everyone sneaks a look in Gerard’s direction. They don’t bring it up though, Ray just steers the conversation to what shows he’s been watching lately. And no one says anything in the car, everyone just sits quietly as Mikey’s Spice Girls CD keeps skipping. It’s not until they get home that Mikey slams the door and snaps, “What the fuck?”

Ray and Pete jump, but Frank coils up like he’s about to jump into a fight. 

“I didn’t do it!” Gerard lies, and he knows, fucking _knows_ that his brother can see right through him. He’s been through this before, he’s seen his brother at rock bottom and knows how he sounds when he’s scratching to fall further. 

“That’s bullshit,” Mikey hisses.

“Babe, people die at the quarry all the time,” Pete says softly as he reaches out towards Mikey, but Ray grabs his hand and shakes his head. Ray has seen enough Way fights to not jump in the middle. 

“Mikey, I didn’t kill that guy,” he says.

“I didn’t say it was a guy,” Mikey challenges, stepping closer. 

“I just said guy because...fuck, Mikes, stop trying to analyze me and just _trust_ me!”

Mikey’s eyes go wild. “ _Trust_ you? Fucking trust you? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Gerard shrinks down and Frank stands in front of him. “Mikey listen, if he said he didn’t--”

“Stay out of this,” Mikey growls, looming over him, “You _just_ got here, so you don’t know.”

“I--”

Ray grips Frank by the arm and hauls him out of the room with Pete trailing behind. Gerard looks at the spot that Frank had been standing, feeling cold. 

“You have no right to ask me to trust you right now,” Mikey says, “You shot that to hell when you took my prescription and tried to kill yourself with it. Don’t you see how badly that fucked me up? Not even the fact that you died, because that’s...that should be enough, right? But no, you really had to do a number on me because why the fuck should you spare me? I’m just you goddamn brother.”

“Mikes--” Gerard chokes.

“No,” Mikey cuts him off, “I’ve...you,” he starts laughing and shaking his head and Gerard is worried that maybe his little brother’s gone crazy, “You were always there for me, Gee!” He yells like he’s accusing Gerard, “And then it was like someone hit a switch and suddenly it was all on me,” he says, sniffling and Gerard watches his shoulders sag a little like he’s admitting defeat. “I wasn’t mad about it. At first, I liked it even--it’s fucked I guess, but I liked that you needed me for a chance. But you took it too fucking far. I scraped you off more vomit covered floors than I’d like to think about, I stood by and watched you stumble and drink yourself to oblivion so that I could make sure you wouldn’t fucking kill youself--” he breaks off into another laugh, “But yeah, that was a _waste_.”

Gerard feels himself walk back and fold over on the couch. He feels the hot, wet tears on his face but he just doesn’t have the strength to wipe them away. 

“It would have been one thing for you to die,” Mikey whispers, “But you did it when I was home. I was just down the fucking hall. You did it so that _I_ would be the one to find you. Do you have any idea how...I couldn’t talk the next day because I screamed your name over and over. And then I saw that prescription bottle on the floor, _my_ prescription. Because it wasn’t enough to just...you had to make it feel like I killed you.”

“Mikey--”

“So, _fuck you_ ,” he hisses, rubbing angryily at his eyes, like he’s pissed that his tears have shown up for this conversation. Like he was just trying to hold onto that anger instead of breaking in front of Gerard, because he had already broken enough. 

Gerard feels numb and there’s so many thoughts bouncing around his head. So many things he wants to say to Mikey. Tell him how it wasn’t his fault, it was never his fault. That he didn’t fail him. That he’s the best brother in the world for putting up with Gerard. That he loves him in a way that Gerard will never be able to love himself, like he sees all the good that he could have been but is glad that Mikey turned out to be the good brother because he wouldn’t have been able to watch his brother fall like he had. He wants to apologize and promise he’ll be better from now on. That Frank says he has this second chance and he’s not going to waste it, that he forgives himself and they’ll work past this. Because they’re brothers, and it’s always been them against the world. But he doesn’t say any of this. He just whispers, “I didn’t do it.”

“Tell me the truth.”

Gerard thinks about it, really does think about reaching out and telling him that he’s fucked up again. That he’s never going to change and Mikey should have just let him rot in the dirt. But he blinks back his tears and says, “Mikey, I didn’t do it.”

Mikey’s anger dissipates, and Gerard thinks that he got away with it this time, but Mikey just bends down so that he’s at eye level with Gerard and hisses, “I’m not going to be there this time to pick up the pieces.”

And then he walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a chapter. Here's some recs to soothe your heart <3
> 
> So I feel like everyone has read [Companion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/854673), but I thought I'd drop the link in case someone out there hasn't read this gem yet. It's a classic for a reason. 
> 
> [Take the Pieces and Build Them Skywards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300691) is another one that I have a feeling people have read already, but it was another one that I read pretty early on and I remember it really hitting me hard. I love the characterizations of everyone in this and the love story between Gerard and Frank is pretty epic. 
> 
> So [Wake Up and Notice You're Someone You're Not](https://archiveofourown.org/works/32729) is the best of both worlds for me. It's Peterick and Frerard with some fun body swapping madness.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still technically Bullets' birthday in some parts of the world when I'm posting this. I managed one reference to Bullets in this chapter, if you find it we can be friends forever <3
> 
> This one is a bit shorter, but it had to end where it ended. Remember the tags.

Gerard and Mikey don’t really fight. 

Or at least, not about anything serious. They’ll argue over who ate the last Hot Pocket or Gerard stealing Mikey’s favorite shirt _again_ . The worst fight that Gerard can remember was when Mikey had turned sixteen and started dating Kyle. And Gerard hated this guy, mostly because his name was Kyle and every Kyle he’s ever met was a complete douchebag. But Mikey was sixteen and was going through his first love, so Gerard couldn’t really do much about it. Mikey talked about him all the time to Gerard, he’d come over and sprawl out on the couch and gush about how great his music taste was and that he was actually going to go places with his band. And sure, Gerard was a little jealous that his little brother was hanging out with his awesome new boyfriend instead of wanting to come over and play video games when Gerard wasn’t in classes. But he didn’t want things to end badly for Mikey, he really, _really_ didn’t. 

But that was until Gerard found out that Kyle was the guy who worked at the gas station by their mom’s house. The guy who was in his twenties. Dating his fucking sixteen year old brother. 

“It’s really none of your business,” Mikey had said when Gerard brought it up. 

Gerard had lit a cigarette then one for Mikey, trying to soften him up. “Mikes, he’s what? Twenty-three?”

“Twenty-one!” Mikey insisted. 

Gerard sighed. “That’s still too old for you. Mikes, you’re a minor still--”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Mikey hissed, “That’s not what this is about.”

“What? Are you fucking--what do you think this is about?”

“You’re just mad that I’m not here to hang out with you anymore,” Mikey insisted, ashing his cigarette, “I’m sorry you have no friends, but it’s time for you to stop being a loser and relying on your little brother.”

Gerard had stared at him like Mikey had slapped him in the face. “Excuse me?”

Mikey set his jaw, but Gerard saw that he regretted what he had said. Mikey had always been difficult to read to other people, but Gerard knew him more than he knew himself sometimes. “You’re jealous.”

“Mikey, that’s really not it. I’m worried about you. This guy is taking advantage of you,” he said softly, then winced, “You guys haven’t…”

Mikey stiffened and tossed his cigarette. “That’s none of your business,” he hissed, getting up, “And you better not tell mom or you’re fucking dead to me!”

Gerard had jumped at the front door slamming and sat on his couch for three days straight, just drinking so he didn’t have to think about what his brother was going through. So he didn’t have to imagine what Mikey was going to do when he told their mom what was going on. 

He never did tell their mom. Mikey showed up after those three days with a bottle of Jack and red, teary eyes. Gerard pulled him in his arms and whispered, “It’s going to be alright.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“I know.”

But they hadn’t fought since Kyle broke up with Mikey. Mikey would get annoyed with Gerard and he’d tell him off, but he didn’t ignore him like he did for those three days. Up until now. 

Because it’s been almost a week since Thanksgiving and Gerard is still hiding out in Frank’s apartment so he doesn’t have to feel Mikey’s cold shoulder. 

“Babe, you need to talk to your brother,” Frank sighs, shoving clothes into the washing machine. 

“Are you kicking me out?” Gerard asks, sitting on top of the dryer. They’re sitting in a laundromat at one in the morning because Frank’s band practice ran late and he’s too wired to sleep. Apparently laundry makes him sleepy, and there’s something about laundromats that make him feel cozy. 

“No,” he says, looking up to give him a measured look before shoving quarters into the machine and starting it up. “It’s not that at all.”

It had been a little awkward since Gerard hadn’t asked if he could stay with Frank while things cooled down with Mikey, he sorta just kept staying over after Frank fell asleep. But Frank didn’t say anything in the mornings, just kissed him goodbye and told him he’d see him later. And then Gerard had snuck home during the day when Mikey was supposed to be at class so he could bring his art supplies over to Frank’s. 

Frank had given him a look when he got home that day, but just sat next to him and asked what he’d been working on. And then some of Gerard’s shirts ended up in Frank’s drawer and his toothbrush moved over to Frank’s bathroom as well. 

“I mean...I can go stay with Ray if--”

“Gee, that’s not it,” Frank sighs. He runs his fingers through his hair and shrugs, “I know how close you are with your brother and you’ve been sorta tense since the whole thing went down.”

Gerard knows that Frank heard what Mikey had said to him in the living room. The kitchen wasn’t all that far from where they had been and Mikey hadn’t exactly been quiet, but Frank didn’t bring it up. 

He also knows that him being tense isn’t just from the argument. He’s been losing the brightness in his face again and that hunger is slithering in his stomach and taunting him. He’s been trying to ignore the pull to go back to the quarry, instead he’s been devouring everything that Frank brings home from work. He’s just fucking desperate at this point, grabbing the bag from Frank and shoving the raw meat in his mouth like he really is starving. 

It had startled Frank the first time. Up until this point, Gerard had been really good at being...relatively normal around him. He seared his meat so it looked like something a human would eat and Frank could tolerate that. He still wrinkled his nose, but it was with a fond smile. But this time, eating raw meat in his kitchen was a little off putting and Frank had stood there stunned. 

“Oh God,” Gerard whispered when he realized what he had done, “Frank--”

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head, “It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s...you’re going to brush your teeth before you kiss me though, right?”

And they had laughed it off a little uneasily, but they were working through it. Or at least trying to. 

“You heard him,” Gerard whispers now, kicking his legs against the dryer, “he doesn’t trust me.”

Frank comes over to stand in between his legs, setting his hands on Gerard’s hips. “And I also heard that he’s been going through some shitty stuff in his head,” he says gently, squeezing his hips, “Stuff that I think he needs his big brother to talk to him about.”

Gerard frowns and leans into him. “When did you get so wise? I thought I was just dating you for your body.”

Frank snorts. “You’re a zombie, shouldn’t you be dating me for my _braiiins_?” 

Gerard laughs and hugs him closer, feeling the last of the laugh get caught in his throat like a sob. Frank nuzzles against his neck. “It’s going to work out,” he murmurs.

The guilt burning inside him makes him want to tell Frank the truth. Makes him want to drive over to his brother and fall on his knees and tell him how much he’s fucked up. Beg him to help him again. He wants to call Ray and stay up all night talking to him because he always knows the right things to say. 

But instead he just lets Frank hold him and whisper soft lies against his ear. 

*

A week later and Gerard is nearly peeling off his skin he’s so worked up from trying to manage his hunger and not eat Frank at the same time. Which is really fucking hard when his boyfriend is the epitome of sex and all Gerard wants to do is jump his bones. 

“Wait, wait,” Gerard whines, pulling away and moving to stand on the other side of the room. 

Frank huffs and drops his arms from where they had been holding Gerard. “Ok,” he says, moving up to rest on his elbows on the bed. “What’s going on?”

Gerard balls up his hands into fists and pushes down the hunger that’s clawing up his throat and has his mouth salivating. “Sorry.”

Frank looks down sadly at his wilting erection. “It’s fine. I’ll get another one,” he sighs dramatically, then when Gerard doesn’t laugh like he usually would, he sits up all the way. “Gee? Hey, come here,” he says softly, holding out his hand. 

Gerard closes his eyes and shakes his head because all his body is telling him is _bite chew devour hungry hungry hungry EAT._

“Do you need to eat again?” He asks, and there’s a little edge to his voice. Frank’s not stupid, he can tell that there’s something seriously fucked with Gerard. More so than usual anyway. Gerard had been eating triple the amount he used to, but nothing was helping really. He’d get maybe an hour of relief before he was shaking again. 

But he just nods because he doesn’t know what else to do. Well, he knows what he _can_ do, but he’s trying to be good. 

Frank stares at him a moment longer, like he knows that Gerard is keeping something from him and is just waiting for him to give in. But when Gerard doesn’t say anything else, Frank just nods and says, “I’ll run to the store for you, ok? Just...wait here I guess and try to calm down a bit.”

_You’re freaking me out_. Gerard can hear the words that Frank wants to tack on at the end. He shoves his feet into his boots and shrugs on a jacket. He goes to give Gerard a kiss, but Gerard shrinks into the corner of the room so Frank stops short. “Ok,” he breathes, then walks out. 

Gerard waits until he hears the front door open then shut before he breaks down. And he knows that Frank has neighbors, but he’s hoping no one calls the police when he curls up on the floor and _wails_ . Why did Mikey do this to him? Why did he bring him back only to have him be this monster? It was so _cruel_ for him to have this second chance at life dangled in front of him only to have it snatched away. 

He can’t be here anymore. He can’t be around Frank, it’s selfish and he’s going to hurt him if he stays here any longer.

Gerard gets off the floor and staggers out of the bedroom and out of the apartment. He realizes too late that he’s shut and locked the door without a coat. He presses his forehead against the front door and sighs, trying to calm his breathing. Maybe he’s not thinking clearly. He’ll just eat whatever Frank brings home and things will be ok again. 

Yeah. For an hour. And then he’ll get all worked up again. 

It’s not fair to Frank. This is--Frank deserves better. And Mikey deserves better, and maybe he can just

He needs to get out of here before Frank comes back home or else he’ll talk Gerard out of it. And then they’ll argue and Gerard doesn’t need to get more wound up right now or he’s going to lose it. Maybe...maybe, he can just go find...a better meal. Something that will settle him. Maybe he can be like Dexter and only kill bad people. But Gerard’s never been a great judge of character and what gives him the right to play God? No, killing is wrong regardless. 

_But it’ll never work out with Frank_ . And Gerard sees that. Long-term this isn’t going to work if he doesn’t figure out a way to handle his hunger. But Gerard only sees two options. Either keep himself on a grocery store diet and never be fully in control of himself, or kill and still be a fucked up boyfriend only at least he’ll be able to fuck him? Fuck, this is _fucked_. 

*

Gerard knows that he’s been walking for a long time. 

His feet are blistered from wearing shoes without socks and walking in the rain for so long. He looks up at the sky and blinks when a raindrop falls into his eyes. 

_When did it start raining?_

*

He doesn’t even taste at this point. It’s just maddening hunger. His mind is blank other than _eat eat eat eat eat_. And so he does. 

He’s soaked through and he feels the water sliding down his cheeks and tangling into the blood that’s dripping off his lips. His ears are still ringing with the screaming and he lost a shoe from chasing her down. There’s something in the back of his mind that’s crying, that’s sobbing at the monster he’s become. He knows this is wrong, but he can’t make his hands drop the body and run away from this. He knows he needs to stop, but his mouth keeps moving, teeth keeps digging in and chewing. 

He flinches when he sees headlights shine in his eyes and he drops to his knees, holding his kill close to him and it reminds him of those nature documentaries that Ray likes to watch sometimes. He feels like a wild animal preparing to fight to keep his food.

When the car door opens, Gerard hunches closer to the body in his hands and growls lowly. His mind is still focused on his hunger, on finishing his meal, but there’s something poking through the fog in his brain. He squints under the headlights, not able to see who the person is yet from the beams being so bright. 

“Gerard?” 

Frank. 

Gerard growls louder when Frank starts to walk towards him. He stops and holds his hands up in front of him like he’s trying to show that he’s not going to harm _him_. “Gerard, baby,” he whispers, then his eyes fix on the dead woman in his arms, “baby, let her go and come here.”

Gerard stares down at the body in his hands, sees her eyes looking up at him. Lifeless. 

He did this. 

He hears Frank take a step closer, then when Gerard doesn’t growl again, another step. He’s almost within arms reach before Gerard snaps his head up and growls. 

“Ok, ok,” Frank says, stopping, he drops down to his knees so he’s eye level with Gerard, “Hey, I need you to let her go and get into the car with me.”

Gerard looks back down at the body in his arms. She’s probably the same age as him. Maybe a bit younger, like Mikey. She’s probably in school--was in school, just trying to figure out her next move. She was probably walking home from the train and going to her apartment to microwave some leftovers. Maybe she was going to her girlfriend’s house, or a best friend. Maybe she has a little sister looking up to her, waiting up for her to text her that she made it home ok. 

“Baby, shh, don’t cry,” Frank whispers, “Just let her go and take my hand.”

Gerard looks up and stares at Frank’s hand, water pooling into his palm. “Take my fucking hand,” he says, voice cracking and eyes pleading. 

“Frankie,” Gerard sobs, cradling the body to his chest. He presses his forehead into her neck, smelling the open wounds, sour and sweet all at once and his mouth fills up with saliva again. “ _Frankie_ ,” he repeats, like it's a prayer that can save him from this, like it's his last rites, the final chance to save his soul before he's swallowed whole into this hell. 

“I know,” Frank whispers, and then there’s soft, pruney fingers stroking his waterlogged cheeks. “I know you’re sorry, you didn’t mean to. It’s ok, just come with me and we’ll get you some help.”

“How?” Gerard chokes. 

“We’ll talk to your brother,” he says, and Gerard can feel his lips against his ear, feels his wet hair getting caught in his lip ring. “We’ll figure it out, but we have to get out of here. Someone could see us.”

Gerard doesn’t even know where they are, doesn’t know how he got here. He feels Frank’s hand on his back, stroking shakily. “Let her go, baby, I’ll take you home.”

Home sounds good. Home to Mikey, wrapped in his worn blanket that he’s carried with him through childhood and into his shaky beginnings of adulthood. Mikey would laugh at how he looks like a swamp monster with his hair soaked and clinging to his face. He’d take Gerard in and sit him in front of the space heater while he dug through their clothes to find an oversized sweatshirt. And then he’d make him hot chocolate with extra marshmallows before putting on something old and familiar on the television. Well, he would if they weren't fighting. And if Gerard didn't have blood all over his face and hands. 

“Yeah,” Frank says gently, “I’ll take you to Mikey, just set her down.” 

Gerard starts to lower her and Frank sits back and nods encouragingly as Gerard sets her on the ground. Gerard hunches over her, another sob working it’s way out of his throat. He goes to touch her face and Frank reaches out. 

Gerard growls and when Frank’s hand wraps around his arm, pulling his hand away from the young woman, something in Gerard snaps. 

And then he’s sinking his teeth into Frank’s arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me, I have gifts:
> 
> [Been Here Before](https://archiveofourown.org/works/187231) is such a gem. I found it on Dreamwidth or whatever the fuck that site was called, but it's been taken down so I searched ALL over the web for you guys because it's so so good. I forgot who the author was but after I found it I was like "duh" this writer is amazing. They have a few fics that I really love. This one is just such a great angsty fic with the perfect amount of friction between Frank and Gerard. There's a lot of internal debating, of feeling guilty for taking care of yourself when it meant putting everyone else on hold and sort of reevaluating those choices. 
> 
> [Unequivocal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/349711/chapters/568904) is a fic that actually made me cry and there's not many fics that can do that. You all know what I write, I get into some shit and usually the hardcore feels don't get to me much, but this fic...it really hits hard. It's my kind of MCR fic where each era is examined and rewritten from a Frerard perspective. It's another old one, I'm pretty sure it used to be on LiveJournal before being moved over here so there's no Danger Days discussed, but I would be really curious to see what they would have done with that era. It's not sad really, just really, really beautiful and if you read it you'll probably understand what I mean.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think this is the chapter that some of you have been waiting for. We finally learn what the fuck Pete and Mikey did with that spell and get all this zombie business explained. Oh and we find out what happens to Frank...

“Gerard? Babe, you need to breathe,” Frank says from the front seat of the car. 

Gerard is sitting on the floor of the car in the back, his face pressed into the upholstery and sobbing. He can’t believe he bit Frank, can’t believe he’d ever lose control like that. 

He had snapped out of it as soon as he heard Frank’s yell bounce off the buildings in the alley they were in. He let him go and sunk away and stared at him with wide eyes. Frank took his shirt off and wrapped it around the wound and shook his head, “It’s fine, it’s ok,” he said soothingly, but his eyes were watering and his lips shook from the pain. 

“Frank--”

“Get in the car, Gerard,” Frank said, and Gerard did what he was told. He crawled in the back, too afraid to be so close to Frank. Frank didn’t say anything about it, just got into the car and drove away. 

He can tell that they’re driving fast, that Frank is trying to focus on Gerard instead of his injury. And what that injury could mean. He’s seen enough zombie movies to have some ideas. 

“Frank--”

“Don’t,” he says, turning onto his and Mikey’s street. 

It’s in the middle of the night, but Mikey is already waiting for them under the awning of their porch. Gerard wonders when Frank had texted him, if Mikey knew that he had been missing from Frank all night. 

All he knows is that his door is being opened and Gerard flinches from Frank. Frank stoops low to look at him. “Hey, I need you to pull it together,” Frank says softly, “I shouldn’t have reached for you, no let me finish, it wasn’t your fault, ok? We’ll figure something out. Mikey says he might have someone who can help. But I need you to snap out of this.”

Gerard gives him a hard look, but nods. Frank’s calling the shots right now and there’s a selfish part of his mind that’s relieved to just shut up and do what he says. Frank raises an eyebrow and holds out his hand and Gerard wants to smack him for trusting him so much, but he just slides his hand into Frank’s. Frank smiles softly, still trying to reassure him and Gerard thinks it’s backfiring because he just feels  _ worse _ . He squeezes Gerard’s hand and tugs him out of the car.

As soon as Gerard steps onto the porch, Mikey descends on him, pulling him in his arms and Gerard just presses his face into Mikey’s neck and inhales because he smells like home. He smells like his grandmother’s house and his childhood. Mikey cards his fingers through Gerard’s stringy, wet hair and makes a noise of disappointment. “Let’s get you inside and into dry clothes.” There’s a pause and he can feel the tension between Mikey and Frank. “Both of you.”

Gerard lets them pull him into the house. Pete is pacing in the living room on his phone and when he sees Frank, his eyes widen at the shirt wrapped around his forearm. “Yeah, they’re here now. No, I haven’t seen it yet--”

Gerard tries to hang in the living room to see who Pete is talking to and what about, but Mikey pulls him up the steps. They move into Mikey’s bedroom and he has Gerard sit on the bed. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Gerard does what he’s told and the rest of the fog from earlier is leaking out of his mind. He killed someone again. Frank found him. And he  _ bit _ Frank. This is fucked, this is, Gerard’s not sure how they’re going to come back from this. How  _ he’s  _ going to come back from this. How the fuck are they supposed to help him now? What about those dead bodies? What happens if someone links them to Gerard? What happens to all their families and friends? And Frank...what’s going to happen to Frank?

“One thing at a time,” Mikey says, taking his hand. 

Gerard blinks and frowns up at Mikey, he didn’t see him come back in. 

“You’re talking to yourself again,” Mikey says softly, taking a hot washcloth and wiping at Gerard’s palms. 

“Sorry,” Gerard breathes, watching Mikey clean the blood off his hands. And then he feels more tears in his eyes, and he’s really fucking tired of crying. “I’m sorry about lying--” his voice cracking at the end. 

Mikey nods and tilts Gerard’s face up towards him, dabbling at his chin and jaw. “I know you are,” he says gently, “It’s a good thing I was lying too.”

Gerard’s expression twists into confusion. 

Mikey smiles bleakly, “I’m always going to be here to pick up the pieces.”

Gerard exhales shakily and feels Mikey dab at his cheeks, cleaning up the tears that are spilling out of his eyes. Then he cleans his other hand before taking a dry towel and rubbing his hair dry. 

Gerard laughs a little, and it feels weird given all that’s happened, but it also feels like a step in the right direction. Mikey tosses the towel on the back of his chair and goes to his closet, pulling out one of Mikey’s worn sweatshirts. He tosses it to him and then hands him a pair of pajama pants that they’ve forgotten who it actually belongs to. “I’m going to go bring Frank some dry clothes,” he says, grabbing random clothes from his closet, “Come down when you’re dressed.”

He waits for Mikey to leave then gets changed, cursing at his jeans that are glued to his leg from the water. He digs into Mikey’s drawers and steals a pair of thick socks before heading downstairs, but pauses at the top of the stairs when he hears low voices. 

“He was...he really was  _ eating _ her,” he hears Frank say, “Her whole left side was…”

“Ok,” Mikey says shakily, like he’s going to throw up. 

“But, Mikey, the weird part--”

“The  _ weird _ part?”

“Shut up, I know. But he was...he was really upset,” Frank says, then softly, “He held her like he was mourning her.”

There’s a pause and Gerard leans further over the banister to hear Mikey say, “At least he’s still my brother then.”

Gerard shifts and the stairs creak.

“Gee?”

Gerard sighs and makes his way down the stairs. Ray is sitting on the couch too, giving him a measured look and he sort of feels like this is an intervention. He remembers when they had tried to do that once before, he doesn’t think it’s going to work this time either. 

Pete comes in from the porch and is smiling, which if anyone could find something to smile about in this situation it would be Pete. “Patrick is pissed, but he’s going to help.”

Gerard furrows his brow. “Patrick? The small angry man?”

Pete snorts. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Gerard waits for him to continue, to offer some explanation as to why Pete’s short-tempered friend is the answer to all of this. “Um, how is he going to help?”

Frank makes a noise in his throat and Gerard snaps his head to his direction, seeing Frank looking pretty green. He rushes over to where he’s sitting on the couch, framing his face with his hands. Frank leans his head into Gerard’s hands as if it’s too hard to keep his head up and groans. 

Gerard looks down and sees the skin around the shirt that’s wrapped around his wound turning grey. “You know what? I don’t care, if he can help then let’s get Frank to him.”

*

“I can’t believe...of all the  _ stupid _ ...did you even think once about what the fuck was going to happen?” Patrick thunders once they get Frank laying on top of Patrick’s dining room table. 

Gerard pushes Frank’s damp hair off his clammy forehead and strokes his cheek. “Hang in there, Frankie,” he whispers, “And please don’t turn into a zombie.”

Frank chuckles weakly. “Don’t think that’ll hold up with my vegan diet,” he says hoarsely before erupting into coughs. 

“Shh,” Gerard soothes, rubbing at his chest, “Don’t talk right now. Just do whatever Patrick tells you to do.”

“Thank you,” Patrick snaps, “At least  _ someone _ in here has brains.”

Pete grins. “That’s the zombie who is killing everyone.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Great,” he deadpans, walking into the kitchen. 

“Um,” Ray says hesitantly, hovering off to the side, “How exactly are you going to help Frank?”

Patrick starts fiddling around the kitchen, grabbing small bottles and a mortar. “I’m going to draw the toxins out of his wound. It doesn’t look like it’s spread too far yet--Pete I need you to ground up yarrow leaves,” he says, handing the mortar over to Pete. 

Gerard stares at them, still stroking Frank’s hair. He knows that apparently Pete is a witch, but he’s not really sure how some plants are going to help Frank right now. But he’s not going to say that to Patrick. 

Patrick comes over to the table and undoes the shirt that’s wrapped around Frank’s arm. Gerard can see the bite mark clearly, it looks like it’s almost gone to his bone. The skin around it is inflamed, but instead of red, it’s grey like Frank’s losing the coloring in his body. Patrick starts dropping liquid onto the wound with an eyedropper and Gerard flinches when Frank’s skin starts to sizzle. 

Frank whimpers and squirms, but Gerard helps hold him down. “Shh, it’s going to be ok,” Gerard murmurs, eyes still on Patrick. 

Pete comes over with the mortar and Patrick dumps it onto the open wound, rubbing it in and not seeming to be phased by Frank trying to rip his arm away. Patrick takes another bottle and dumps some liquid into his hand before pressing it onto the mess on Frank’s forearm. 

And then he closes his eyes and starts chanting. It’s low at first and Gerard has to lean in to even hear his voice. It sounds like music to him, not just words. There’s a melodic cadence, words jumbling into each other that Gerard can’t really tell what he’s saying, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because Frank starts screaming. 

Ray and Mikey rush to the table and hold Frank’s legs down while Pete pushes down on his other shoulder. Gerard keeps his hands pressed on Frank’s chest and murmurs things that he doesn’t even think about saying. He just keeps his voice soft and low against Frank’s ear as Patrick slowly lifts his hands and Gerard stares in disbelief as black goo leaks out of the bite wound and moves up to Patrick’s hand like he’s a magnet. Patrick pulls up, taking the poison out of Frank’s arm with him and Gerard watches as the grey starts to melt back into Frank’s flesh color, tinged red and pink from the irritation. 

Frank sags to the table and goes limp under Gerard’s hold as Patrick twists his hands and the poison shapes into something solid, dropping to the table and shattering into a powder. 

And then it’s quiet. 

“Wow,” Ray whispers, eyes wide and looking at Patrick.

Patrick wipes his brow with his arm and then fixes Gerard with a look. “Alright, now what are we going to do about you?”

Gerard shrinks under his gaze, but Patrick takes his arm and pulls him away from Frank. 

“Wait--”

“He’ll be fine now,” Patrick says, pulling him into the kitchen. He pushes him down to sit on a barstool and tilts Gerard’s head up towards the light. Patrick stares at him intently, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. He peers into Gerard’s eyes, pulling down on his cheek to look inside his eye sockets then opens Gerard’s mouth with his thumbs and holds his lips down so that he can look at his gums. Anyway, Gerard feels pretty weirded out. 

Pete shuffles in slowly, like a child who’s in trouble and needs to learn his lesson. 

“I can’t believe you stole that spell from me,” Patrick says, his voice sounding more tired than angry like before. 

“Trick, I had to. Mikey was--”

“Yeah,” Patrick cuts him off, but it sounds soft and understanding, “I know, Pete.”

Gerard feels really fucking awkward sitting between the two of them. They feel sort of like him and Mikey, where they can talk without words, where there’s emotions swirling around them that only they’ll be able to distinguish. But it’s not really brotherly between them, and Gerard has a sinking thought that maybe there’s something there that Mikey needs to worry about. 

“Still,” Patrick continues, checking Gerard’s fingernails now. “You should have come to me instead of trying this on your own. You fucked up pretty bad.”

“Yeah,” Pete sighs, “I know, but we were handling it--”

“Handling it?” Gerard squeaks, “I’m  _ eating  _ people!”

Patrick sets Gerard’s hand down and pulls up another stool to sit on in front of him. “Listen, you can stop, but you have to now before it gets worse and you can’t turn back. You’re already starting to show signs. Your eyes aren’t adjusting to a stimulus, your gums are starting to recede, and your nails are turning grey.”   
  
Gerard holds up his nails and winces at the greyish tone towards his nail beds. “What am I supposed to do now then?”

Patrick gives him a sad look and sighs. “You have to get it completely out of your system and start over. Your body is used to human flesh now, right? You’re not able to sustain yourself on alternative methods?”

Gerard nods sadly. 

Patrick gives him a sympathetic look. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“And Frank?” Gerard asks, “I didn’t…”

Pete shakes his head. “No, you didn’t turn him into a zombie. You’re not fully...um, you know, so your bite isn’t that powerful. Patrick was able to get the poison out before it did anything but make Frank really sick,” Pete explains, then adds, “But he’ll bounce right back. He’ll be tired tomorrow and maybe the next day, but he’s going to be good as new.”

Gerard exhales loudly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. That’s one thing taken care of at least. At least he didn’t damn Frank into this life. 

“Why…” then Gerard frowns, because he’s not sure what he’s trying to ask really, “Um, how, or  _ why _ is this happening to me? All of it. The hunger and stuff.”

Pete leans against the kitchen counter and hangs his head. “It’s my fault. I took the spell from Patrick instead of just asking him for help,” he explains, “It was just supposed to be a soul binding spell.”

“Soul binding?” Gerard asks, just getting more confused. 

“Yeah,” Patrick says, his face twisting into agitation, “Except performing a soul binding spell on a dead body is really fucking tricky and--”

“Wait, soul bound to  _ who _ ?”

Pete looks at Gerard incredulously. “Mikey of course.”

Gerard snaps his head back to stare at Mikey in the dining room, who is helping Ray get Frank off the table. “What?”

“Gerard, Mikey showed up on my doorstep,  _ begging _ me to do something,” Pete says softly, “he..he,” but Pete shakes his head and looks at Patrick. 

“Soul binding is a hard enough spell,” Patrick says, “But doing it on a dead body is near impossible. I can see why Pete chose it. It links the two of you together so that you’re essentially sharing the same life force.”

“Um…”

“You’ll age as Mikey does,” Pete says, “And you’ll die when he does.”

Oh. 

For the first time since he crawled out of his grave, something settles in Gerard’s chest. Something clicks into place. Because this seems right, to be connected to Mikey for the rest of his life. To not have to worry about who would go out first, to think about having to live a life without Mikey Way. They’ll grow old together, and they’ll die together. 

“Um--”

“ _ But _ ,” Patrick says, “There’s an extra step when one of the people involved is already dead.”

“It’s why we had to bury you in the cemetery,” Pete says softly, “You have to bring your soul back to your body.”

“And the only way to do that is to be on hollow ground,” Patrick explains, “The issue comes when your soul comes back. Sometimes it gets lost and comes back tattered.”

“My soul is…” Gerard starts, but he doesn’t really understand what they’re telling him. 

Pete stoops down and takes Gerard’s hands. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he whispers, squeezing his hands, “You’re still Gerard. All your morals, your hobbies, your ability to love are still there.”

“It’s just that,” Patrick sighs, “When your soul comes back with holes in it, it creates this hollowness in you, this hunger that you are driven to feed.”

Gerard nods, remembering that first night, how he felt so empty and how nothing would fill him. 

“Why meat?” Gerard asks, “I don’t understand why that--”

“It’s the closest thing to replicating a living thing. You’re consuming something that was once alive, that had a soul,” Patrick explains, “You’re trying to patch up the holes with bits of other souls. It’s only momentary, but it soothes the hunger.”

“And that’s why eating...people...that’s why I’m able to go longer without eating in between…”

Patrick nods. “Yeah. Because they’re actually alive when you, um, you know.”

And it makes sense why Gerard doesn’t feel as satiated with meat that’s been sitting around. Why he had to go to the butcher counter every day. 

Gerard thinks about the beginning. How he felt so dead, how he was weak and  _ physically _ felt like he was still dead. “Before I ate for the first time,” Gerard starts, “I didn’t have a heartbeat or anything, I..”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, smiling a bit, “You were literally only standing because Mikey was alive, because of the spell. Once you started eating, your body came back to life.”

“And you can maintain this,” Pete says, still holding Gerard’s hands, “You just have to be better about taking care of yourself. No skipping meals and letting the hunger build up. That’s what made you lash out in the first place.”

Gerard nods. “Yeah, ok, I can do that.”

Pete’s warm eyes twinkle and he smiles gently. “I know you can. Mikey says you’re really strong. You’ve done this before.”

Gerard’s heart sinks. “Not really.”

“You have a lot of people to help you,” Patrick says, “And you know the alternative.”

Pete looks at Patrick somberly then turns to Gerard. “You have to decide right now if you're willing to put in the work to want to stay alive.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fit to be Tied](https://archiveofourown.org/works/98130) is another one where I'm not sure how well known it is. It's a really amazing fic though! Lots of angst and werewolves, what more could you ask for? It's probably my favorite werewolf Frerard fic. 
> 
> [Becoming Joan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/351341) is one that I'm pretty sure a lot of you all have read, but if you haven't, you really should. I reread it recently and was just blown away yet again at how great of a story it is. It's written as a Not!Fic, but stick with it and it really dives into the story to the point you don't really notice. The beginning set up is a little shaky, but once you get into the meat of the story you won't be able to stop reading. 
> 
> I read [Heart Warmer than the Ice Keeping the Spinach Lasagna Cold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135491) a while ago and didn't really realize until I unearthed it that I drew a lot of inspiration from this. It's about Gerard, a 28yr old hermit, falling in love with Frank, the 18yr old vegan who works the deli counter. Yeah, there's an age difference, and I wanted to mention that because it's not in the tags.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I wrote this out and just wanted to get it posted since it ended in a pretty nice spot.

It’s a little weird how things just sorta went back to normal after they left Patrick’s apartment. Gerard tucked Frank into his bed and kept feeding him tea and soup like he was trying to get him over a cold instead of a zombie bite. But Frank humored him and was a good little patient as he let Gerard fuss over him. 

Gerard called into his work for him as Frank dozed in between episodes of _The Twilight Zone_ , nestled in the pile of blankets that Gerard found in the spare closet. Gerard didn’t even know they had all these blankets, let alone a spare closet. 

And Gerard’s hunger hadn’t come back, but he could feel it starting to creep in as Frank got better and left to go to work. He felt it when he stayed up all night drawing the next comic, something about death and regrets, of the feeling that there’s strength in living, courage even. _I’m not afraid to keep on living_ and Gerard thinks about Mikey a lot when he’s working on that panel. 

But once the relief of Frank being ok starts to dwindle, Gerard feels the tension between them. It’s sort of hard to ignore when the angry bite mark stares up at him, taunting and relentless. Hard to ignore when all he feels is this bitter self-hatred, sour and bubbling in the pit of his stomach, like it’s keeping him company until the hunger swallows him whole again. 

It won’t be like that again. It _can’t_ or there’s no going back. And Gerard wished that Frank was more angry at him maybe. _Something_ because Gerard feels like he’s wanting to tear apart his skin to release the sickening...guilt, anger, putrid disgust that he has inside of him. He wants to be yelled at, needs to be punished and atone for what he’s done. 

But Frank just keeps acting like nothing is wrong. Except something really is. Because the days he comes over to Mikey and Gerard’s house are getting fewer and then stop all together. Gerard really doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t blame him one bit for not wanting to come over and be around a fucking zombie that took a bite out of him. 

“He needs to adjust,” Mikey had said, “Frank’s cool, but he’s not _that_ cool.”

Gerard rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything because it’s easy for Mikey to say that when he’s having all sorts of freaky sex just two floors above him. And it must really be something if he can hear Pete’s whining from the basement, which, ew he’s in there with his _brother_. Which, like, that would be enough if that was all. But no, Mikey had to up the freaky.

He’s still washing his eyes out from walking into Mikey’s room _in the middle of the day_ to find him shirtless with a naked Pete Wentz mouthing at his shoulder and tugging at Patrick’s belt. 

He’s really sick of seeing Pete naked.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry!” Gerard had shrieked and went to sit on the porch until Patrick came out an hour later with red cheeks and not so much as a nod in his direction. 

Pete hung out the window and shouted, “See you later, lunchbox!” 

And Mikey came out on the porch chuckling around a mug of coffee. 

Gerard had just raised an eyebrow at him and Mikey rolled his eyes, “Go see your boyfriend and quit sulking,” and then he went back inside. 

Which is how he’s standing outside Frank’s apartment door like he’s about to meet a firing squad. It’s not like he’s avoiding Frank really, but he was trying to give him space, but he also thinks that they’re wasting time when they could be doing all the great sex stuff before Gerard’s hunger comes back and he’s doing the whole detox thing. But then he’s also trying to think with his brain and not his dick, because really, that’s what got him into this mess with Frank in the first place. Not that he regrets--

The door opens and Frank leans against the door frame. “Were you going to knock or just pace outside my door all night?” He asks with an amused smirk. 

Gerard blushes and mumbles, “Can I come in?”

Frank chuckles and moves out of the way so that Gerard can walk in. It’s only been maybe a week since he’s been inside Frank’s apartment, but it feels different. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room and Frank shuts the door, leaning back against it and crossing his arms. “What’s with you?”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Gerard says, trying to keep his voice neutral. 

Frank raises an eyebrow and then nods. “Not ignoring, just taking a breather. It was a rough couple days there, babe."

Gerard wants to be mad, wants to start a fight but he sort of melts at the pet name. Which is probably why Frank tacked it on, and that makes Gerard shake his head, “You could have said so.”

Frank exhales slowly. “Look, I’m...processing.”

“You didn’t need to process when I told you I was a zombie,” Gerard says, then laughs hard, “Fuck, you didn’t even blink, you just tossed me on the bed and _fucked_ me.”

Frank’s eyes darken. “I didn’t ask for any of this, ok?”

“I didn’t say you did, but I gave you plenty of chances to get out.”

“You--” he rubs a hand over his face. “You disappeared and I went looking for you for hours only to find you in an alleyway eating a woman. And then you _bit_ me--oh, no, I’m not fucking finished,” he growls when Gerard starts to talk. He stalks over to him, “And _then_ , because I haven’t been through enough, I get taken to a random apartment and laid out on a table to basically have an exorcism done on me so I don’t end up like _you_. I’m sorry if that fucked me up a bit and I didn’t want to suck your dick for a few days.”

Gerard stands there, a little shell shocked, and says, “I didn’t--”

“I know,” Frank breathes, like he’s letting all the air out of him, like he’s a balloon that Gerard is deflating with this conversation, “Gerard, I know you didn’t mean to. I know that you didn’t plan any of this either, that you can’t--”

“I’m not fucking _helpless_ ,” Gerard bites out, “Quit making me a victim.”

“Then stop acting like one,” Frank growls, pushing him a little. 

Gerard stumbles a little and fixes a glare on him before shoving him back. Frank stumbles back and hits the doorway before launching back at him. He’s got a grin on his face when he collides with Gerard this time, sending him sprawling onto the couch and Gerard leans up to kiss him. 

Frank hums in approval and kisses him back, only breaking away to pull Gerard’s shirt off. And then they’re peeling off clothes quickly, Frank shoving him back on the couch as soon as he’s got the last bit of clothing off. His kisses are bruising, his fingers digging into Gerard’s skin and Gerard revels in the bite of his nails. He’s eager for it, there’s this itch deep in him that he needs Frank to take care of, and nothing slow and loving is going to scratch it. 

Frank smirks against Gerard’s lips and flips him over so that he’s on his stomach and Gerard thinks _thank God_ because he just needs to be fucked right now, he wants to be faced down and fucked like he’s just here for Frank’s pleasure. He wants to be used and abused in the best ways, wants Frank to make him scream himself hoarse. 

But then Frank peppers soft kisses down his spine, slowly and stroking down his sides. Gerard squirms under the gentle touch and pushes back so his ass grinds against Frank’s cock, already hard and leaking against him. Frank groans and pushes Gerard’s hips down, “Don’t.”

Gerard defiantly pushes back and he moans when he feels the tip of Frank’s cock rub against the cleft of his ass. Frank’s hips stutter and then he holds Gerard down and breathes, “Gerard,” in warning.

“Fuck me,” Gerard says, fighting against Frank’s grip.

“Oh I will,” Frank promises, leaning down to lick the curve of his ear, “let me get--”

“No, I don’t need it,” Gerard breathes, “I’m clean.”

“Ok, me too, but I’m getting lu--” Frank’s cut off by a low groan as Gerard wraps his hand around Frank’s cock. He grabs Gerard’s wrist when he starts to guide Frank to where he wants him, “Jesus, _slow_ down.”

“Just--” Gerard starts then huffs when Frank gathers Gerard’s arms and pulls them behind his back, wrapping his belt around them and fastening him still. 

“Now,” Frank says darkly, leaning down to kiss his neck slowly, “You’re going to _wait_ here while I get what I want. And then you’re going to lay here and take what I give you, understand?”

Gerard groans in frustration, struggling against the belt. Frank presses his hand flat between his arms, against his back and says, “I know what you’re trying to do and you’re not going to turn sex into something ugly. Not with me. Angry sex is one thing, but it’s not a punishment and you’re not going to make me hurt you.”

Frank palms at Gerard’s ass as the words sink in and Gerard’s eyes burn hot from frustration and embarrassment. “This is what I have to offer,” Frank says softly, pressing a kiss at the base of his spine, “Do you want it or not?”

“Yes,” Gerard whispers almost instantly.

Frank hums and licks down the cleft of Gerard’s ass and whispers, “Good boy.”

Gerard shivers and then Frank’s getting up and walking into the bedroom. It takes him longer than it should to grab the lube from the nightstand and Gerard’s pretty sure that he’s making him wait just because he feels like it, like he’s trying to teach Gerard a lesson. The childish side of Gerard wants to tell Frank to take him out of the restraint and then storm home, but that thought diminishes when Frank comes back with the bottle of lube. 

He settles behind Gerard again and the sound of the cap being opened bounces off the walls and taunts Gerard. Frank’s still taking his sweet time and Gerard wants to bite out something about him taking too long before he moans obscenely as Frank slides a slick finger in him. It’s nowhere near enough and Gerard whines, moving back to push back against his finger to take him in deeper. 

Gerard hears the smack before hot almost-pain blossoms over his ass cheek and he’s being pushed back down into the couch. “Try that again and I’ll stop,” Frank warns, sliding a second finger in and Gerard moans loudly. 

Frank hooks his fingers and they rub against his prostate teasingly, chuckling softly at how responsive Gerard’s body is being. He can’t help his hips threatening to push back against Frank finger fucking him, but he grits his teeth and holds them in place. He thinks that Frank will take pity on him, that he’ll give in and fuck him already, but he just keeps pushing him slowly towards the edge. 

Gerard is babbling and near sobbing by the time Frank adds a third finger. “I’m ready,” Gerard whines, not daring to move since there’s no way that he could stop now without combusting. “I’m ready, I’m read--”

“Shh,” Frank murmurs against his neck, kissing him gently and still working his fingers in him slowly. 

Gerard doesn’t think Frank’s ever been this gentle with him in bed, has never taken his time like this before and he knows that he’s doing it to prove a point. And Gerard’s learned his lesson already, fuck. 

This isn’t how he wanted to come, he wanted it to be quick, hard, and loud on Frank’s cock, not slowly pulling him under on his gentle fingers. But he feels his limbs locking up, feels the heat in his his belly build and he knows that Frank can tell from his body tightening, but he doesn’t do anything to help him get there fast--just keeps his maddening speed until Gerard gets hit with a thick wave of pleasure, rocking it’s way through his body and he feels like he’s drowning under it, panting against the couch when it leaves his body limp. 

Frank keeps his fingers in him, but he’s leaning up to pepper kisses along his temple and hairline. “Still with me, sweetheart?”

Gerard is pretty sure he’s drooling over the couch, but he nods limply. 

“Good,” he whispers, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

*

“You know that we can’t just have sex and everything be ok again,” Gerard breathes, moving to lay his head on Frank’s damp chest. 

Frank chuckles. “This coming for the guy that had to literally get strapped down because he couldn’t wait for me to get the damn lube?”

Gerard blushes and hides his face in Frank’s sudsy hair. Frank picks up the plastic cup that’s floating in the bath and fills it up before pouring it over Gerard’s shoulders. Gerard has a sneaky suspicion that he just likes watching the water move over Gerard’s skin. 

Frank presses a kiss onto his shoulder. “I know I should have...that _we_ should have talked after what happened that night, but I honestly just needed to process everything. You realize that was a lot for a Friday night right? I’m all for weird dates but--”

“Shut up,” Gerard huffs a laugh and shifts so he’s resting his cheek against Frank’s collarbone, then he sighs sadly, “I know I’m not easy to be with.”

Frank shakes his head and grins, wide and beautiful and there’s a ping in his heart, a reminder that he doesn’t deserve this, that Frank deserves better than the mess that Gerard is. Frank shakes his head and taps a finger against Gerard’s forehead. “Stop that,” he whispers. 

Gerard raises an eyebrow. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Frank says softly, “It’s a lot, yeah, I didn’t exactly know that I would be dealing with the supernatural when I asked you to lunch--”

“You mean when you asked me to have sex in your car?”

“Don’t cheapen it,” Frank snorts, “I did take you to lunch afterwards.”

Gerard rolls his eyes and says, “Sure, sure.”

“Anyway,” Frank continues, filling up the cup again and pouring it over Gerard’s chest, smiling a little at how Gerard’s nipples harden, “It’s a lot, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worth it.”

Gerard blinks up at him and Frank blushes a little under his stare. 

“What?” He asks softly. 

Gerard’s never been in love before. Never even close to it really, so he’s not sure how he’s supposed to go about these things, if it’s something he can just say or if there needs to be some build up. He’s also not exactly thrilled with the idea of saying it while he’s naked in the bath with him, it seems way too vulnerable. 

But Frank’s looking down at him in the way that always pulls back Gerard’s defenses, in the way that he knew he was doomed from the start when Frank leaned over the counter at the grocery store and smirked, like the way he did when he stood in shattered glass bowls, the way he looks like he’s Gerard’s weakness and strength all at once. 

Gerard inhales, breathing him in and smelling the tobacco, motor oil, and crispness that he’s associated with his heart, and whispers, “I love you,” on the exhale, because once the words encapsulate his every thought, saying them is as easy as breathing. 

Frank smiles, huge and all teeth. And its like the sun peeking over the Earth in the early morning, bright and demanding after the cold night, it’s giving and wondrous. And then he’s leaning down to kiss him, slow and Gerard isn’t complaining this time, because he’s learning that they have time. Frank’s not running, he’s just taking a break and they deserve that. 

“Love you too,” Frank murmurs, nipping Gerard’s bottom lip, because it wouldn’t be love without a little pain. 

And then he licks over the bite, because it wouldn’t be them without some healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just read [ The Circuit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667867) the other day and I LOVE it so much. It's another racing fic, but this one has motorcycles and has a nice dollop of heartache among sexual tension and adrenaline inducing racing scenes.
> 
> [Pyrchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrchance/pseuds/pyrchance) just uploaded [Salt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514161) today and it's AMAZING! It's so soft, but very sexy and has so many good Bullets Era vibes. Read it and tell her to make it into a series PLEASE <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, ok, last chapter guys. This fic is definitely not my best writing, I sort of went into this story to just have fun with it and write what I wanted and it really became one of my favorites. I liked the message here, and I hope it came across to you all. This fic really can be as deep as you make it. It can be a fun story about Gerard being a zombie and falling in love with a sexy vegan butcher or it can be something much deeper, and I think either way is fine. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and time spent reading <3

When Gerard had been trying to get clean, there had been this really awful night where Gerard thought he was going to die. He remembers laying on the floor of his bedroom because the bed was just too damn soft and the sheets kept scratching at his sensitive skin. He remembers wanting to vomit from the stench coming off him, and how any _idea_ of moving made his head spin. 

He didn’t think he’d ever go through something that painful again. He didn’t think anything _could_ get more painful than wanting to rip his skin off because it was just so fucking sensitive, the fucking air conditioning blowing on it made him want to cry. 

This is worse. 

It started off ok. Yeah, he was irritated and had a bad attitude. He kept pacing as the hunger slithered round and round in his stomach like it was taunting him. And he didn’t even bother looking in the mirror because he knew he’d just see a fucking corpse. He had told Mikey to stay with Pete or Patrick, or the fucking mayor--he really didn’t care, he just didn’t want him where he could hurt him. 

“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Mikey scoffed. 

“You don’t understand, Mikes,” Gerard gritted, “It’s going to get bad. I don’t know how...I went a week without eating and _ate_ a person, we’re going on almost two weeks now and I feel like I’m...like I’m…”

“Ok, ok,” Mikey said softly, reaching out to take Gerard’s hand. 

Gerard flinched like he had been burned and moved away. He lit a cigarette, though it did nothing for his nerves and his hand shook so hard, ash rained down on the kitchen floor. 

“I don’t think you being alone is the answer though,” Mikey said.

Gerard glared at him. “Yeah, because it’s not fucking dang--”

“We’ll keep Patrick here,” Mikey insisted, “You know, in case you bite anyone.”

“Are you fucking stupid? I mean, well _of course_ you are,” Gerard hissed, “You’re the one that put us in this situation in the first place!”

“Seriously?” Mikey drawled, not impressed by Gerard’s attitude, “You really want to go there.”

Gerard frowned and tugged at his hair with his other hand. “I’m sorry, I just…” he trailed off. 

“I know.”

So he’s got a house full of human snacks and Gerard is trying his hardest not to fucking snap and go on a murder spree that would make Amityville Horror look like a Disney movie. He’s pacing in the hallway, trying to ignore the burning searing down his throat, it’s like he can _taste_ it, and his body is doing everything it can to make Gerard give in. 

Frank’s sleeping downstairs even though Gerard threw a hissy fit about him coming over. 

“Me biting you once wasn’t enough? Do you have a fucking death wish? I mean, I know you’re fucked in the head, but I didn’t think you were a complete moron,” he had growled.

Frank just raised an eyebrow and flicked ash off his cigarette. “Are you done now?”

And Gerard had childishly crossed his arms and huffed. 

They all think they’re helping, and Gerard knows deep down that they are. But the ugly part of Gerard wants them all to leave so he can self destruct in peace, and he knows that’s why they’re so fucking adimant. He knows. God, he wishes he wasn’t such an open book sometimes. 

He hears creaking on the steps, and then Pete is coming down the steps. At least he’s wearing sweatpants this time. 

“Hey,” he says softly, smiling a little like he’s pleasantly surprised to see Gerard losing his mind in the hall. 

Gerard grunts, he’s really not in the mood. 

Pete pats his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go sit in the kitchen. Can’t sleep?”

“I haven’t since…”

Pete stops and frowns at him. “At all?”

Gerard shakes his head. 

“Fuck, ok, man,” he says gently, and Gerard is sort of lulled by it. Pete tugs on Gerard’s arm and leads him into the kitchen, nudging him to sit down at the kitchen table. 

“You’re not scared to be around me right now?”

Pete shrugs and opens the fridge. “Patrick’s upstairs with Mikey.”

Gerard leans his head on the table. “There’s so many things fucked with that sentence.”

Pete sits next to him with another carton of orange juice. What’s with this kid and juice? “How so?”

Gerard turns his head to the side so he can look at him. “Seriously?”

“Oh,” Pete says, like it just occurred to him, “You mean, like, what you walked in on?”

Gerard snorts. “Yeah.”

Pete doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sips the juice then hands the carton to Gerard. Gerard sighs and sits up before taking it. 

“You know I love your brother, right?” Pete asks. 

Gerard takes a drink. “I assumed so.”

“Right,” Pete says, and he looks a little bashful, almost childish. And not in the silly Peter Pan way that him and Mikey sort of exuberate. It’s not that he doesn’t want to grow up, it’s just taking him a little longer to find his way to adulthood. Gerard can understand that, he doesn’t feel like he’s been doing all too well with that either. “And I know you know how easy it is to love Mikey Way.”

Gerard smiles and hands back the juice. 

“Yeah,” Pete grins, taking a sip, “So it shouldn’t surprise you that Patrick sort of couldn’t help himself.”

Gerard snorts and Pete goes, “Oh my God, not like that, dude. Seriously, it’s not a sex thing.”

Gerard raises his eyebrow. “Looked like a sex thing.”

Pete rolls his eyes and gives Gerard the juice again. “No, it’s...look, I don’t, I’ve”--he laughs nervously-- “I fall in love easy. Being in love just doesn’t seem like it should be hard, right? I don’t understand why people make it out to be such a big deal.”

Gerard doesn’t say anything, he just takes small sips of the juice. He always liked to think of himself as a romantic, but he was never around anyone long enough to actually fall in love with them. Until Frank of course, but honestly, how could anyone not fall in love with Frank?

“Patrick and I are...complicated. None of my rules make sense with him.”

Gerard nods and passes the juice back before taking his cigarettes out. 

Pete sets the carton on the table and sits back in his chair. “When I met Mikey, I...well you know how he is. I never had a chance, not that I would ever want it. I’ve never been happier--” he breaks off in another laugh and looks over at Gerard like he’s making sure he’s listening.

Gerard is. 

The thing is that he’s _seen_ the way Pete looks at his brother, but it’s a whole other thing to hear him talk about being in love with him. It’s sort of startling. And Gerard’s never had to process this before. Mikey’s had boyfriends before, but it was never anything serious and Gerard’s always hated them and just counted down the days until they broke up. And really, Mikey’s never been serious about anyone since that asshole from his senior year. But this is serious. Pete is serious, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. Mikey is Gerard’s kid brother. He’s his best friend that will stay up and watch shitty movies with him, he’s his brother that will understand him the way that no one ever will, and he’s his kid too--he’s responsibility and no matter how much he’s fucked up in the past, that heaviness in his heart will never be relieved. Hearing someone love Mikey in a way that makes Gerard’s blood run cold, is terrifying. 

Because it’s not even that they have all the ammunition to take Mikey down. They also have a kind of love that Gerard doesn’t know will outshine his. And he’s...it’s not a jealousy thing, but it sort of is at the same time. 

“So you know, I’d never hurt him,” Pete says softly, “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Patrick?” Gerard asks cautiously. 

Pete grins, an Earth shattering grin--the kind that makes Gerard think that Pete holds all the secrets to the universe. “Turns out that curing a zombie bite makes Patrick very emotional.”

Gerard tilts his head. 

Pete shrugs. “I think he wanted to be threatened by Mikey, but ended up being infatuated with him instead. And, well, who am I to say no to two boyfriends?”

Gerard snorts and takes a drag off his cigarette.

Pete giggles and looks down at the floor, letting them die out naturally. “Patrick would never hurt Mikey either, it’s not...he’s not, he’s so _good_ , you know? I--”

“It’s ok,” Gerard whispers, “The fact that there’s no words for him is telling enough.”

Pete smiles bashfully and they sit in a comfortable silence. Gerard looks at his hands and sees them trembling still, but it’s manageable. He thinks having Pete nearby is helping a lot, but he’s not going to say that. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, so you can just listen if you want,” Pete says softly. 

Gerard frowns and looks back up at him.

Pete gives him a long look before looking back down to the floor. “Mikey and I hadn’t even really been seeing each other for long when he..well, when you…”

“Yeah.”

“Right, so, he didn’t even know I was a witch when he came over,” Pete says, then shrugs, “Well I mean, he knew, but I think he thought I was just full of it. He didn’t really understand, so I didn’t get it at first when he came over begging me to do something.”

Gerard furrows his brow, very confused. 

“Did he ever tell you that I overdosed on pills?” Pete ask quietly. 

All the air leaves from Gerard’s lungs, all the air he doesn’t need but still makes him dizzy. “No.”

Pete grimaces at the floor. “I...I’m not trying to say we’re the same or whatever, just that I get it. I understand what it feels like to come back from the dead and have to deal with that,” he says, then grins a little, “Well, besides the zombie shit.”

Gerard snorts and takes another drag. “Yeah, lucky you.”

Pete shrugs. “No, but, dude, I get it. Waking up the next day doesn’t change your perspective like everyone wants it to. I wasn’t trying to die that night, I just wanted my head to shut off for a bit...so, I mean, whatever, take that as you will. But, that _pain_ doesn’t go away just because you almost lost everything. There’s no revelation.

Gerard swallows thickly, pushing his cigarette down in the ashtray on the table. “I thought there was something broken in me for still wanting to be dead.”

Pete puts his hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re still human.”

_You’re still human_. Gerard wants to laugh and cry at that. 

“It’s fucking hard,” Pete agrees, “You have to put in the work everyday to stay alive, even when you don’t want to be.”

Pete stays up with Gerard all night, finishing off the orange juice carton and then finding Mikey’s stash of pickle chips. “Don’t tell,” he whispers. 

And they talk.

Gerard hasn’t talked to anyone this long besides Mikey, and recently Frank. And, yeah, there’s still really hard days. There’s still this battle with another addiction that Gerard is fighting. There’s still the friction in his and Frank’s relationship, something that’s going to take time to smooth out--but he likes that he has time. It’s like Pete said, he isn’t suddenly cured from his depression, he doesn’t want to go skip in a fucking field of flowers. It’s hard, everyday, to push out those negative thoughts. The things that tell Gerard he isn’t good enough for Frank. That he’s a burden to his brother. That he’s a terrible son who doesn’t give his mom enough attention. He’s lazy and a fraud of an artist. That he’s horribly awkward and no one is going to want to talk to him. 

Except, he can’t help but think he feels more alive after he died than he ever did before. He can’t ignore the fact that he’s in love with someone totally out of his league--who loves him back. And that he’s sitting at his kitchen table talking to his brother’s boyfriend (well, one of his brother’s boyfriends) about the music scene in Chicago compared to New Jersey. He’s talking and he doesn’t want to hide. He’s talking and he doesn’t notice his hands shaking. 

*

It takes a few more days for Gerard to completely detox. 

But then he’s sitting at the kitchen table eating a steak with Mikey and Patrick one morning and he doesn’t feel like he’s going to be sick. Mikey tries to act like he’s too interested in his phone to pay attention, and Patrick is blatantly staring at him. 

“Better?” Patrick asks, reaching out to take Gerard’s hand and staring at his nails, “You look better.”

“I don’t have the urge to eat you right now, so I’d take that as a good sign,” he says, taking another bite of his rare steak. 

Patrick nods. “Yeah, I think...I think you’re good.”

Mikey puts down his phone and beams at him, and Gerard looks down at his plate with a shy smile. 

“Just,” Patrick says, “You know how bad it can get now.”

Gerard nods and looks up at Mikey. He knows that there’s still shit they have to deal with. Like, he’s pretty sure they need to sit down and really talk about that night and Gerard needs to explain himself. Not in the way where he’s wrong--Gerard’s trying to listen to Pete and let himself just feel what he feels without making it ugly. But, Mikey needs to understand what’s been going on in his head. Gerard just needs to make Mikey understand that it wasn’t his fault--Gerard was never leaving Mikey, it was just that he was too lost to see that Mikey was worth staying for. 

And he knows that they should probably talk about this soul bond spell that he and Pete did. He’s not really sure what that conversation is going to look like. Probably Gerard crying and telling Mikey how much he loves him--because, fuck. How could Gerard ever doubt that Mikey would do anything for Gerard now?

“I’m going to run to the store,” Gerard says, getting up, “Need anything?”

“Yeah, more goddamn pickle chips, you _asshole_ ,” Mikey says and Patrick grins, trying hard not to laugh. 

Gerard’s been trying to watch the way that Patrick and Mikey interact and it’s different than the way that Mikey is with Pete. Patrick is more subtle, so much so that Gerard doesn’t understand sometimes. But then he’ll catch Patrick looking at Mikey like he’s just been shaken awake after a bad dream. Like he had forgotten how things could be until Mikey woke him up. 

And when the three of them are together, Gerard has to walk out of the room sometimes because it’s too much.

“Patrick?” Gerard asks, gathering his keys, “Want anything?”

He catches Mikey’s eye, _thanks_. 

Gerard smiles back, _sure_.

“No,” Patrick says, “Just maybe more of Mikey’s chips so I don’t have to hear about it.”

Mikey snorts and kicks Patrick’s chair and Gerard thinks that’s his cue to leave. It’s weird walking out of the house after locking himself in it for the worst of his detox. He’d forgotten how bright it was in the middle of the day. 

He hears Sniffles barking at him as he walks by and Gerard grins before turning to look at the rat looking dog. 

The dog stands its ground and barks, baring its teeth. 

Gerard fixes him with a look and growls lowly. The dog hunches down, whimpering, then runs off. 

“Gee, leave the fucking dog alone!” Mikey calls from the porch. 

*

“Look at you,” Frank says, leaning over the counter with a smirk, “Out and about.”

Gerard shrugs. 

“You still look like shit,” Frank says, starting to pack up Gerard’s favorites. 

“Wow, careful, I might just get on my knees right here.”

Frank chuckles darkly, “Don’t I know it.”

Gerard blushes and leans against the counter and Frank rewards him with a kiss. It should have probably been a little peck of a kiss since they’re in the middle of the grocery store and Frank is at work, but things like that never seem to matter to Frank. And Gerard hopes he never stops having his breath taken away by Frank’s passion. He hopes that they’re still like this years later, where Gerard is pressed up against a butcher counter moaning into Frank’s mouth. 

Frank pulls back first, leaning his forehead against Gerard’s and breathing hard. “You don’t seem like you’re about to eat me.”  
  
Gerard snorts. “If that’s your way of measuring how well our relationship is going, then you’re more fucked than I thought.”

“All fucked up over you, babe,” Frank murmurs, pulling back. 

And things get...not back to normal, because Gerard’s sort of come to accept that his life is anything but normal, but that’s alright. Things get easier. Getting out of his room is easier. Making time to play video games at Ray’s house is easier. Sitting at the kitchen table at night with Pete is easier. Learning that Patrick is really fucking smart and way too good to be around these idiots is easier. 

Being in love, that’s really fucking easy. 

Not that Frank and Gerard have everything figured out. Gerard still gets into his head some days and Frank has to pull him out of it. He leans on him too much other days and has to learn to give Frank breathing room. And Frank’s learning to let himself drop his walls around Gerard more. 

Like the night he woke up from a nightmare, spun together from the memories of being in prison. Gerard’s never seen anyone break down like that, and he’s been to some pretty low places. But he didn’t freak out like he thought he would, he just held Frank against his chest and wiped at his tear streaked face. Rocked him gently once the sobs subsided into hiccups and sung quietly, something he hadn’t done since Mikey was a kid. 

And they don’t really talk about it. It’s something that Frank’s not really ready to unpack yet, but they’ve compromised by both getting help. Frank has therapy on Tuesdays and Gerard goes on Thursdays while Frank is at band practice. And before Gerard thought it was stupid because there was no way that a therapist would be able to sort out this zombie shit, but it’s really not all that different from being human. 

Well, the eating part maybe...but, the idea that he feels empty isn’t anything original. The idea that he tried to fill it with something that was turning him into a monster, that’s the most human thing he knows. 

But it’s not until Gerard is standing outside the hall bathroom that he realizes how ok he actually feels. He hadn’t believed all that shit about time healing all wounds or that if he put in the work, he’d actually be able to get out of bed.

He opens the door and it looks the same as it did that night, as if it had been sealed like a coffin when Mikey shut the door. 

The bathmat is tousled, like Mikey had kicked it away when he rushed to Gerard in the bath. Mikey’s pill bottle is still on the floor, the cap missing. The shampoo bottle that Gerard hasn’t used in months is sitting inside the tub, dried soap making the bottle stick to the porcelain. 

Gerard picks up the medicine bottle and tosses it in the trash then picks up the shampoo and sets it on the edge of the tub where it belongs, before climbing in and sitting down. 

It feels weird. Heavy for sure, but not as monumental like he thought it would. There’s no flashbacks to the tub filling with water. No memories of his eyes drifting shut against the lull of the pills. When he closes his eyes he doesn’t hear Mikey’s in his room like he had that night. 

He’s standing outside the door. “What are you doing?” He breathes. 

Gerard opens his eyes and looks over at him. “Being dramatic I think.”

Mikey hesitates in the doorway, looking like he might be sick. But then he steps over the threshold and it’s like he’s going through the same process that Gerard had gone through.

It’s just a room. It doesn’t have a hold on either of them. 

Mikey sits on the floor next to him, resting his elbows on the lip of the tub. And they don’t say anything for a while. Gerard likes to think that he’s more in tune with Mikey because of the spell, but he honestly doesn’t feel any different. Mikey still seems like his kid brother who takes care of him more than he should. 

“Frank’s waiting for you outside,” Mikey says, his lips curving a little, “I think he’s got a hot date planned for you.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “We’re going to Taco Bell and then we’ll probably fuck in the car.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Mikey drawls. 

Gerard moves to get out of the tub when Mikey reaches out and puts his hand on Gerard’s arm. He stills and looks at Mikey with his eyes filling up with tears, like he already knows what Mikey is going to say. And maybe Gerard doesn’t feel anymore connected to Mikey from the spell because they’ve always had this.

Mikey watches Gerard rub at his eyes, his own face shaking to keep neutral. He swallows, but his voice still comes out wet when he says, “Hey, I forgive you, you know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saved my favorite fic for last. [Home is a Name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19203754) is one of those fics that just stayed with me. It's a fic that I go back and reread all the time. I have the podfic of this as well just so I can listen to it when my eyes feel like they're going to fall out from looking at a computer screen all day. The characters in this story are what make it for me. I love Gerard and Mikey's relationship, I mean, come on, by now you should know how much I love their dynamic. I think what I love the most about it is that it's a story about love, not just romantic but also family and found family. It's an AU but it's probably the best depiction of Gerard's obsession with being a martyr that I've seen. And the whole dealing with the consequences of addiction, learning to forgive yourself, and still finding value in life when you don't really think there should be. Idk, friends, it's got a lot of heart and it makes me all in my feels...obviously.


End file.
